


It's A Deal

by shamelesstravesties



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Ian has a boyfriend, Jealous!Mickey, Love Triangles, M/M, Mickey Milkovich is popular as hell, Minor Angst, Not for loooooong, Original Characters - Freeform, Popular!Mickey, Sexual Tension, prom au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelesstravesties/pseuds/shamelesstravesties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian really wants to take his boyfriend to prom, and when he refuses, he decides instead to ask Mickey, the most popular - and mysterious - guy at school.<br/>To his surprise, Mickey agrees - under one condition. Ian has to do whatever he wants.<br/>It's only after prom comes and goes that Ian realizes this is a lot more than just a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Never Hurts To Ask

**Author's Note:**

> based off of a prompt I got on tumblr! hit me up with some prompts. i take forever, but i work really hard on them <3  
> (tumblr: talkingtravesties)

“Ian, babe, we talked about this.” Danny says, in that strained voice that Ian knows means he’s really testing his boyfriend’s patience.

“Barely, though.” Ian protests.

Danny sighs and finally meets Ian’s eyes. “I thought you were okay with this. The way things are now.” He says, gesturing between himself and Ian.

“I am! I am, I just thought…I mean, you’re out at school so it’s not like anyone would care and it’s your senior year and—” Danny cuts in.

“Yeah, it’s my senior year, so shouldn’t it go my way?” He says it in a joking tone, but Ian can’t help feeling slightly guilty.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ian says, stepping closer to his boyfriend and running his hand gently down the buttons on Danny’s shirt. “I just really want to be by your side at your senior prom. You know that seeing you in a suit turns me on.”

Danny grins, and hooks his fingers in the loops of Ian’s jeans to pull him closer. “Hey, you’ll be by my side at the prom afterparty, right?”

Ian raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t all the seniors gonna be there? If we’re together, won’t they notice?”

Danny shrugs. “Everyone’s gonna be drunk off their ass anyway, no one will be paying attention.”

Ian sighs and plays with one of the buttons on Danny’s shirt.

“I know you had your heart set on us going to prom together—your sweet,” Danny presses a kiss to Ian’s jaw, “innocent,” to his earlobe, “little heart,” to the tip of his nose, and then straightens up again. “But let’s be realistic. Lila and I will end up going, because we’re going to have to take pictures for Prom Court anyway and if we went, I’d have to leave you for Prom Court stuff. You’d hate it.”

“You seem pretty sure about getting Prom King, huh?” Ian says jokingly, and Danny shoots him a look, causing Ian to sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He slides his hands up Danny’s chest and tangles them in his curly brown hair.

“Do I at least get to have you afterwards?” Ian says, in the low husky voice that he knows drives Danny crazy.

Danny breathes out carefully and smiles at Ian.

“Yes. Yes, you do, you get me all night long.” He leans down and presses his lips to Ian’s, which Ian responds to immediately, kissing back eagerly.

Danny has this way of making Ian forget he just lost an argument, which seems to happen more often than not.

Usually, by the time Ian remembers, it’s too late to do anything about it.

***

“So did you ask him?”

It’s the first thing his best friend Katie asks when Ian sits down with his tray at their usual lunch table.

“Give a guy a second to breathe, would you?” Ian says, tossing a fry into his mouth and grinning across the table at the impatient Katie.

“Tell me.” Katie demands, not even cracking a smile.

Ian sighs. “Yeah, I asked. Don’t know what I expected to happen.”

Katie’s shoulders sag. “He said no?”

Ian nods. “It’s okay, though. He said we could hang out at the afterparty and all.”

Katie furrows her eyebrows. “The senior afterparty?”

“Yeah.” Ian confirms.

“Don’t you have to have a senior date?”

Now it’s Ian’s turn to look confused. “I mean, yeah, I figured you and I were gonna go, same way we go to every dance?”

Katie looks down and chews on the inside of her mouth.

“Don’t fucking tell me…”

“I’m sorry!” Katie blurts. “It’s just, Mason Keating asked me last night, like really casual and all, but I think he might actually be into me, and I really thought Danny would say yes.”

She looks so apologetic that Ian just can’t hold it against her.

He expels a frustrated breath. “No, no, don’t be sorry, you’re all good. It’s your senior prom, after all. And Mason Keating is hot as fuck.”

Katie’s face breaks into a grin, which instantly cheers Ian up. There’s something absolutely radiant about Katie’s smile, it’s like sunshine comes streaming from her face, and it always makes Ian feel better, no matter what.

“I know, right? I’m absolutely going to hit that.” Katie says in a self-satisfied tone, opening her cup of jello and eating a spoonful happily.

Ian chuckles at his best friend and stuffs more fries in his mouth.

“Okay, but now enough about me.” Katie says, getting right back down to business. “We have to find you a date! A senior date.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a lot of senior friends, you know.”

“Don’t give up so easy, come on, think.”  

“Umm…okay, Jasmine and I study for Calc together, but I’m pretty sure she’s got a boyfriend, so she’s probably going with him. Amelia Lewis used to fuck my brother, but I wouldn’t exactly say we’re friends—” Katie snorts at that, and Ian grins before continuing. “Hayley Oakes and I are kinda tight, but I highly doubt she wants to go to prom at all. She never goes to school events.”

“Hey, uh, Ian…” Katie interrupts again. “I hate to state the obvious, but you are gay.”

Ian shoots her a deadpan look.

“Really? I had no idea. That definitely would explain why I had a guy’s dick in my mouth last night.”

Katie laughs. “Ew, stop, I don’t need to know everything you and Danny-boy get up to, okay? No, you dickwad, what I mean is, why don’t you take a guy?”

Ian’s eyebrows shoot up. “Like another gay guy? Isn’t that kind of like…cheating?”

“First of all, no it’s not, not unless you fuck him in the photo booth. And second of all, yeah, it could be a gay guy. Or a straight guy.”

Ian looks at her dismissively. “How many straight senior guys you know want to take a gay junior to prom?”

“Hey, you never know. Plenty of guys wanna stick it to the administration, going with a guy would definitely be a giant middle finger. Come on! Can you imagine Danny’s face when you show up with another dude?”

“Oh, so is this actually for me or just because you don’t like my boyfriend?” Ian grins, pointing a fry at his best friend accusingly.

Katie just rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, I like Danny plenty. I just wish he would grow some balls and take you to prom! I mean, everyone already knows he’s gay, how long is he gonna take before he admits he has a boyfriend?”

“I don’t mind,” Ian says, shrugging.

That’s not entirely true. Ian knows that Danny’s newer to the whole out-of-the-closet thing—he came out at the beginning of his senior year—but they’ve been together for almost four months now.

At first, the sneaking around thing was kind of fun—hiding in the storage closet to make out between classes and a couple dine & dash incidents when seeing classmates at a restaurant—but Ian gets kind of tired of it sometimes.

Sometimes he wishes he could just surprise his boyfriend when he’s at his locker, or go see a movie without sitting all the way in the back corner—you know, normal couple things.

But Ian knows that he just needs his time to adjust, and Danny’s worth the wait. He cares about Ian, really cares about him, and Ian feels the same.

Besides, relationships are never easy, so why should they be any different?

He did really want to be Danny’s date to his senior prom.

It may not seem like a big deal, but it was important to Ian.

Fiona always talked about her prom. She didn’t make it to senior year, but she went with her senior boyfriend her junior year, and every time she talked about it, her eyes lit up. Obviously she didn’t stay with that boyfriend, but she always spoke fondly of him and their time together, and especially prom.

Ian just wanted to have that memory, because he knows that even if Danny and him don’t stay together, he’s a really good guy, and Ian knows he’ll look back at their relationship the way Fiona looks back at hers.

Logically, he knows he has no reason to be mad at Danny, but he can’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of making his boyfriend jealous by bringing another guy to prom.

“Hey, Ian, look who decided to show up today.” Katie says, slightly under her breath, breaking Ian out of his thoughts.

He looks up, and of course—it’s Mickey Milkovich.

Mickey Milkovich may be one of the greatest mysteries of the 21st Century. He is a paradox of a human being. He never shows up to school, yet he manages to pull all A’s and B’s. He seems like a total outcast, but everyone wants to hang out with him. Everybody knows who he is, but no one seems to know anything about his life.

The volume of the cafeteria significantly lowers when Mickey walks in, but he either doesn’t notice or he’s acting like he doesn’t.

They’re not exactly stares, but people shoot what they think are discreet glances at Mickey. It’s nothing new, and Mickey never addresses it, and after everyone adjusts to the sudden presence of Mickey Milkovich, the volume level rises again as normal conversations resume.

“Anyway, I’m determined now. We’re gonna find you someone to take to prom, I swear it.” Katie says, swallowing the last bite of jello.

But Ian’s not paying attention.

No, his eyes are still trained on Mickey Milkovich, who’s gotten his lunch and sat down at a random table, the occupants of which look like Jesus himself had pulled up a chair.

“Hey. Ian.” Katie begins snapping her fingers in front of Ian’s face. “Earth to Ian, what’s going on?”

Ian turns back to Katie, with a wide grin on his face.

“I have an idea.” 

***

Ian was a lot more confident about this three hours ago, when Mickey Milkovich was just an idea and a whole cafeteria away from him.

Now that he’s five feet away, though, Ian’s starting to really doubt this whole plan.

“You gonna speak or you just gonna stand there staring, Ginger?” Mickey says, and Ian jumps slightly.

“How the hell did you know I was here?” Ian asks, amazedly, as Mickey shuts his locker and turns around to face Ian, with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“Juvie. Teaches you a few things, like how to know when there’s a sweating teenager behind you. Saves you from getting a shiv in the back, y’know?” Mickey leans against his locker, looking expectantly at Ian.

“Uh…yeah.” Ian says, even though he really has no idea what Mickey’s talking about. He shuffles uncomfortably and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“So, you gonna tell me what you want or are we just gonna stand here with our dicks in our hands, huh?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, no. I mean—oh fuck.” Ian stumbles through his words, all the while berating himself in his head.

_Real smooth, man, real smooth._

Mickey snorts and looks at Ian, curiously.

“I’m Ian.” he says, cursing himself out in his head the whole time for being so goddamn awkward. “Ian Gallagher.”

“Alright.” Mickey stretches the word out. “How can I help you, Ian Gallagher?”

“Okay, this is gonna sound really weird.” Ian finally manages to say. “But…I kinda was supposed to go to prom with my boyfriend, but he…uh…he’s busy and can’t make it, and so I thought I’d go with my best friend, only see, she thought I was going with my boyfriend, right? So yeah, she made plans with someone else, only now it’s messed up my plans, and see—”

“Fuck, you sure like to talk, don’t you, Firecrotch?” Mickey interrupts, and Ian feels a blush creeping up on his neck.

“Ah. Sorry.” Ian mumbles.

“What is it exactly you need from me here, kid?” Mickey asks, raising his eyebrows at him. “You need me to bully your boyfriend into going?”

“No, no, I…I want you to come as my date.” Ian immediately squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his tongue.

_Really? That’s the best he could do?_

He is never going to have a more humiliating moment in his life. Ever.

Mickey snorts again, and when Ian opens his eyes to look at him, he has this incredibly frustrating knowing look on his face.

“Your boyfriend is going to prom.” he says.

“I…what?” Ian says, pathetically.

“Your boyfriend. He’s not busy. He’s going to prom. He’s just in the closet, isn’t he?”

How the fuck…? Ian’s eyes widen at him.

How the hell did he know that? It’s not entirely true, because Danny isn’t in the closet anymore, but still, that’s a real fuckin’ close guess, and it kinda scares Ian how easily Mickey was able to tell.

“Maybe.” he mutters, just causing Mickey’s smirk to grow.

“And you want to show him that you’re not just some toy he can keep on the side while maintaining his hetero-image, right?”

 “Well, not exact—” Ian starts, but Mickey doesn’t let him finish.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“You’re—what?” Ian exclaims, not believing his ears.

“You heard me, I’m in. The look on that fucker Morgan’s face will be worth it.” Mickey smirks, referring to the universally hated high school principle. “But I have one condition.”

_Oh shit._

“Monday after prom, I get to decide one thing I want. And you have to do it, no matter what.” Mickey says, his voice challenging.

Ian swallows hard.

“This, uh, this doesn’t sound exactly like a fair deal.” he stutters out.

Mickey just shrugs.

“That’s the deal on the table. I go to prom with you, and you do whatever I want. Take it or leave it.” Mickey holds out a hand.

Ian eyes it for a second, and then shakes it.

“It’s a deal.”

***

“So what’s up with the rumor that Katie’s going to prom with Mason Keating?” Danny asks, wrapping an arm around Ian as he joins him on the couch.

“What about it? She is.” Ian confirms, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

“Since when?” Danny persists.

“Since like a week ago. He asked her last Sunday.” Ian responds, somewhat disinterestedly, as he starts to flip channels.

“I thought you were gonna take her?”

“Yeah, but we’ve gone to like every dance together. Figured it was time to switch it up.” Ian says, not mentioning the fact that Katie assumed Danny would say yes to going with Ian.

“So are you not gonna be at the senior afterparty?”

“Sure I am.” Ian says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Who are you going with?” Danny finally gets to what Ian knows he’s been meaning to ask the whole time, and Ian hides a smirk to himself as he lays his head on his boyfriend’s chest.

“Oh, just a friend.”

“What friend?” Danny pushes.

Ian grins and lifts his head up to look Danny in the eyes.

“Why? Jealous, are we?” he asks.

Danny scoffs. “Please. I just never see you hang out with anyone but Katie.”

“Guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me then, huh?” Ian teases, and Danny rolls his eyes, but leans in to nip at Ian’s bottom lip.

“Sorry, babe, you’re as predictable as they come.” he chuckles, and pulls Ian in to deepen the kiss.


	2. Prom Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not much of a relationship kinda guy.” he says.  
> “Never found a girl good enough for the one and only Mickey Milkovich?” Ian teases, and Mickey reaches his hand up to flick Ian’s ear.  
> “Ey, fuck you.” he retorts, almost automatically. “Nah, that’s not it. I dunno, just never felt right, y’know?”  
> Ian nods. Boy, does he know.  
> 

“Ian, how is it that I’m the girl and you’re the one taking forever to get ready?” Katie calls through the bathroom door.

“Fuck off!” he yells, before turning back to face the mirror.

He adjusts his tie for the millionth time and lets out a shaky breath.

“Jesus, what the fuck did you get yourself into?” he murmurs.

Honestly, what was he _thinking_? Going with _Mickey Milkovich_ , of all people, to prom? The fact that he was going with a guy was already a huge call for attention—he doesn’t think anyone at his high school’s ever done that.

Sure, there were gay kids at school and all, but most of them did what Danny’s doing—what Ian usually does—which is just going with a friend. Maybe it was tradition, or maybe it was because no one wanted to rock the boat, either way Ian is seriously starting to doubt his decision.

“Ian!” Katie pounds on the door. “They’re gonna be here any minute.”

“Can I just hide in here for the rest of the night?” Ian moans.

“Ian, if you don't open this door, I’m going to break in—six inch heels and all.”

Ian takes a deep breath, and adjusts his tie one last time before turning and opening the door.

“Fine.” he says, facing Katie. “But I blame you for this.”

 Katie grins and looks him up and down.

“You look hot as fuck.”

Ian can’t help but grin back. “You look pretty great yourself.”

She does; she’s in a fantastic silvery lilac dress that hugs her body in all the right places, a silver gray faux fur shawl, and her normal mane of curly hair is pulled up elegantly.

“Come on, don’t be nervous.” she says, taking his arm and giving him a comforting squeeze.

“How am I not supposed to be nervous? This is absolute insanity.” Ian responds, as they head down the stairs together.

“Yes, it is. But fantastic insanity.” Katie snickers and Ian elbows her in the side.

“I’m serious! I really haven’t thought this through enough.” Ian exclaims.

“I mean, what about the presentation? What order are we going to be in? Mickey said he’d take care of the tickets, but I don’t know if he listed me as his date. And what if—”

Ian’s anxious rant is interrupted by an awed “ohhhhhh” from Katie’s mother as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Sweetheart, you look beautiful! Oh and _Ian_ , so handsome! You two are going to make me cry. John, do you have the camera?”

Katie rolls her eyes at her mom, but Ian just grins.

He loves Katie’s mom; she may be a little over-the-top, but she’s ridiculously sweet and is always so welcoming to Ian whenever he needs a break from his family.

Katie and her family are some of the only people that know Ian is South Side. He works his ass off to maintain the grades to keep him in Wilson Magnet and it’s not like he’s trying to keep his upbringing a secret, but people will rush to judgment as soon as they hear someone’s from the South Side.

Katie’s always been cool about it though. She loves being around Ian’s family, says the noise makes her feel less lonely, since she’s an only child.

Ian, on the other hand, loves the peace and quiet of the Adrian household, so the two spend an equal amount of time at each others’ places.

Mrs. Adrian is midway through taking what feels like the hundredth picture when the doorbell rings.

Ian’s stomach plummets.

He is so very unprepared for this, and he keeps wondering what on earth possessed him to decide it was a good idea to take the most secretive and attention-grabbing guy at school to prom, but before he can even curse himself out in his head, Katie’s dad has opened the door and there are Mason Keating and Mickey Milkovich standing on the porch.

Mason is standing up straight, in a black tux with a silver tie, his hands at his side until he holds one out to Mr. Adrian.

Ian smirks to himself; clearly he’s trying to make a good impression on Katie’s father.

Mickey, on the other hand, is hanging back, his hands in his pockets and his eyes shifting from side to side as if trying to assess the area.

“Ah boys, good to meet you. Come in for a moment?” Mr. Adrian says, in a challenging voice, and Ian snorts at the terrified look on Mason’s face.

“Dad, we’re gonna be late.” Katie jumps in, dragging Ian to the door. “See you later!” 

“Have fun, you guys!” Mrs. Adrian calls after them and Ian chuckles as Katie quickly closes the door behind them.

“No wonder your mom likes me more than you,” Ian jokes and Katie shoots him a scowl.

“No, she likes you more than me because she thinks you’re an innocent angel who never does any wrong.” His best friend retorts.

“Are you saying I’m not?” Ian looks at her with big eyes and bats his eyelashes.

At this, Mickey snorts, which causes Ian to immediately turn and look at him. He almost forgot Mason and Mickey were here.

“So, uh, should we head out?” Mason suggests, looking from Katie to Ian, clearly too afraid to look Mickey in the eye.

Mickey has that effect on people—they stare from afar, but as soon as they’re up close, it becomes increasingly difficult to make eye contact.

He looks good though, Ian observes. He’s in a classic black tux with a thin satin black tie, and his hair is gelled back, noticeably less messy than usual.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Katie says, and grabs onto Mason’s hand before leading them all down the driveway.

Mason stares and their hands and stumbles after her, making Ian chuckle to himself.

“You should’ve seen that kid’s face on our way over here.” Mickey murmurs quietly to Ian, a smirk firmly planted on his face. “Nearly pissed himself.”

Ian snorts, and Mickey grins, and Ian feels his nerves calm a little. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he thought?

***

Ian’s supremely glad he and Katie are placed at the same table for the senior dinner.

He doesn’t know what he would do if he was stuck at a table with a bunch of seniors he doesn’t know staring at him for being next to Mickey.

He’s actually pretty happy with the people at his table—it’s him and Mickey, Katie and Mason, Jasmine Greenberg, from Ian’s Calculus class, and her boyfriend Paul, and a junior girl that Ian recognizes as the lead for last year’s musical, Tanya Harris, with a senior guy, Oliver, that Ian didn’t know but who seemed friendly enough.

The conversation is casual enough, and Ian actually finds he’s enjoying himself, his nerves practically gone by the time the servers bring the main course around.

“I swear, this year the prom committee nailed it.” Jasmine says, looking around at the decorations with an impressed look on her face.

“I know, this is way cooler than last year.” Tanya comments.

“Were you at the senior dinner last year too?” Katie asks, and Tanya nods.

“Yeah, I came with Benji Kite, remember him?”

“Ah, man, I love Benji.” Oliver grins. “Shittiest kicker the team ever had, but hilarious guy.”

Tanya grins. “Yep, sounds like Benji. I remember when he said he wanted to join the football team. I thought he was nuts.”

 Laughter emanates around the table, and Ian smiles politely, when Mickey leans over and says under his breath, “Really riveting shit, huh?”

Ian snickers, which no one takes notice of, since they’re all laughing anyway, but Mickey smirks and picks up his fork.

As the rest of the table continues to talk about Benji and the football team, Ian observes as Mickey shovels down his food at lightning speed.

He’s done before the rest of them have even really started. For some reason, it reminds Ian of his family dinners growing up.

You had to make it to the table and eat your fill before anyone else took your food. It was just a means of survival.  

“You have a thing for watching people eat, Red?” Mickey says, and Ian immediately casts his eyes away, feeling himself blush.

Mickey just smirks.

“Seriously, you’ve got to have eyes on the back of your head or something.” Ian shakes his head, incredulously.

“It’s a skill.” Mickey shrugs.

“It’s fucking terrifying.” Ian grumbles, and Mickey grins.

“Well, if you’d quit fuckin’ staring, I wouldn’t have to call you out on it.”

“I’m not staring!” Ian responds, defensively.

“Oh, really?” Mickey challenges.

“Really.” Ian replies, feeling his confidence building. “Just observing. Never seen a human eat like that.”

“Ey, fuck you.” Mickey retorts, and now it’s Ian’s turn to grin. “Where I grew up, if you didn’t scarf it down, it was fair game for everyone else.”

He picks up his glass and gulps down some water, and Ian watches him, with growing interest.

He wonders how much more he can figure out about the mysteries of Mickey Milkovich.

***

By the time the head teacher, Mrs. Halloran, begins lining people up, Ian’s anxiety is back full force.

She’s organizing them all by last name—specifically, the _girl’s_ last name.

Ian doesn’t really know what he plans on saying and he’s only just starting to really think about it when suddenly Mrs. Halloran is right in front of them.

“Mr. Milkovich,” she says, her lips pursed.

Unlike the students of their school, the teachers are not all too enamored with Mickey Milkovich. He hardly ever comes to school, and when he does he’s constantly late to class. He hardly ever does his homework, and yet he manages to pull above average grades. No one really knows how he does it, and teachers always try to catch him cheating, but there’s never any evidence to support that.

Mickey gets away with practically everything, and the teachers absolutely hate it.

“Where’s your date for tonight, Mr. Milkovich?” Mrs. Halloran asks, looking around and straight through Ian.

“Right here.” Mickey says, pulling Ian forward and linking their arms.

Mrs. Halloran raises her eyebrows at Ian.

Very unlike Mickey, the teachers adore Ian. Part of it may be because of Lip’s stellar reputation, but Ian tends to be quiet in class and gets his work done—a generally unproblematic kid.

“Mr. Gallagher,” Mrs. Halloran says, not even bothering to disguise the surprise in her voice. “Well, gentlemen, you didn’t think to inform us of this unusual arrangement beforehand?”

“I did.” Mickey responds. “I put his name down when I bought the ridiculously overpriced tickets.”

Oh shit, Ian forgot about that. His stress starts multiplying. How would that work? How much does he owe Mickey? Or does Mickey not expect him to pay him back? Wouldn’t that make it kind of a date? Or does he consider it just part of their deal? After all, Ian promised to do whatever Mickey wanted afterwards. Oh god, what a fucking dumbass he is. Mickey could literally ask him to do anything, what the hell was Ian thinking?

“Alright, well, I’ll let Dean Koehler know to announce you two according to Mr. Milkovich’s name, as you’re the senior. You two will be presented after Mr. Olson and Miss Milcrest. ” Mrs. Halloran says, and continues down the line to arrange everyone else.

“You alright, Gallagher?” Mickey asks, looking at him with an amused expression.

“Huh?” Ian falls back into reality and turns to look at Mickey, as if he’s only just realized he’s standing there.

“You look like you’re gonna pass the fuck out.” Mickey observes.

“I might.” Ian says, honestly, and Mickey snickers.

“Come on, man, isn’t the point of this to rub it in your boyfriend’s face?”

“No.” Ian responds. “That’s not the point. I love Da—I love my boyfriend.”

Mickey raises his eyebrows.

“Then why exactly did you ask me to take you to this ridiculous fuckin’ dance?”

Ian mutters under his breath.

“What’s that, mumbles?” Mickey says, cupping his ear dramatically. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“He doesn’t take me seriously.” Ian repeats, louder this time.

He doesn’t realize how true it is until he says it out loud. He knows Danny loves him and cares about him, and he knows that Danny just isn’t ready to pull as big a move as taking another guy to prom, but that doesn’t change how frustrating it is that Danny wouldn’t even listen to Ian’s argument, wouldn’t even consider it for half a goddamn second, wouldn’t even pretend to consider it.

Yes, of course Ian loves Danny, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t majorly piss him off sometimes.

Mickey grins. “There we go, the truth at last. Was that so hard?”

Ian shoots him a glare, which just makes Mickey grin wider.

“Why are you enjoying this so much?” Ian scowls.

“What, am I not allowed to have fun at my senior prom?” Mickey asks, innocently, and Ian tries to resist the smile itching to climb on his face, but he can’t. “Come on, Red, loosen up. You’re the first guy to take another guy to prom in the history of this piece of shit high school. That’s gotta make you kinda proud, don’t it?”

 Ian considers this. “Yeah, I guess. Speaking of, why’d _you_ agree to do it?”

“What do you mean?” Mickey furrows his eyebrows at him.

“I mean, you’re straight. Don’t you have a girlfriend, or some girl you’d rather be taking?”

Mickey just grins. “Dude, if you think I’m the kind of guy who wants to deal with some needy girlfriend following me around and asking me to buy her shit, then you have no idea what you signed up for. Besides, this is a pretty sweet deal. I get to say fuck you to Halloran, Koehler, and basically the entire administration, _and_ I get a little junior puppy who has to do whatever I say.”

Now it’s Ian’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Did you just say little? You? Really?”

Mickey’s grin immediately turns into a scowl and he elbows Ian in the ribs. “Ey, fuck you.”

Ian just laughs, and realizes again that his nerves have completely relaxed.

But, of course, that’s exactly when they hear the speaker come on, and Mr. Koehler’s voice echoing around the auditorium.

“Welcome, friends and family, to the Senior Presentation of this year’s Junior and Senior Prom. We ask that, while taking pictures, you make sure to turn the flash of your cameras off. Thank you.”

Ian’s anxiety hits him again like a ton of bricks, so much so that Mickey can actually feel him tense up.

“Relax, Firecrotch.” He murmurs quietly. “All you gotta do is walk up and smile. I’m sure even you can handle that.”

Ian feels a smile tugging on his lips.

“Fuck you.” Mickey grins.

“Katherine Marie Adrian, presented by Mason Allen Keating.” Mr. Koehler announces, and Ian wishes he could see Katie looking flawless as usual, but they’re too far back in the line.

He waits as more and more of the seniors are announced, and he notices—when Tanya and Oliver are being presented—how Mr. Koehler announces those with junior dates.

“Oliver Keller, escorting Tanya Harris.”

There’s louder cheers for them, no doubt because of Tanya’s enormous family.

Ian feels his stomach lurch. Oh shit. His family. He didn’t even tell them about his prom plans, and he knows they probably just assumed he’d be going with Katie, as usual. He closes his eyes and prays that only Fiona showed up. He absolutely does not need to be mercilessly teased by his siblings.

He’s snapped out of his worry when he hears a familiar name.

“Lila Reed Manning, presented by Daniel Timothy Jones the Third.”

There’s noticeably louder applause for these two. Ian feels his heart pounding, but he also hears Mickey snort by his side and he turns to him questioningly.

“The Third.” Mickey chortles. “I didn’t think Danny-boy could be any more fuckin’ pretentious.”

Ian regards him coldly, and turns back to face forward.

He doesn’t quite know what to think about that.

Danny’s pretty popular, so most people know who he is, but Mickey and Danny never ran in the same circles, and Ian didn’t think Mickey knew anything about him.

He’s trying to figure out how he feels about it now that he knows Mickey’s not exactly fond of Danny, but before he can, he feels Mickey’s hand pulling his arm forward.

“Come on, we’re up soon.” he says, as Mrs. Halloran ushers the couple in front of them forward.

Ian’s stomach begins spinning again.

“Joanna Lee Milcrest, presented by Adam George Olson.”

And suddenly, Mrs. Halloran has her hand on Ian’s back and is pushing them forward, and Mickey’s walking and Ian’s walking and they reach the center of the stage, and Mickey guides Ian to turn and face the front.

The lights are extremely bright, and Ian can barely make out the crowd, but as they walk forward, faces start coming into view, and Ian just smiles—because that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re presented, right?

“Mickey Milkovich, escorting Ian Clayton Gallagher.”

Ian’s only vaguely aware of the pause that occurs before people begin clapping politely, because he’s found that face in the crowd—Danny’s face. Danny’s watching them, with his mouth slightly hanging open like a cartoon character.

Next to him, Lila is whispering with the girl on her other side. Everyone’s faces are surprised, and suddenly, everyone is whispering.

Holy shit, Ian really did not think ahead.

He knew Mickey would attract attention, but he didn’t stop to think that if he went with Mickey, he’d be attracting attention as well.

Mickey guides Ian off stage, and thank god for that, because Ian’s unsure he’d be able to move by himself.

“Fuck.” he mumbles under his breath, and he can see Mickey just grinning from the corner of his eye.

***

“You not gonna dance?” Mickey asks, raising his eyebrows at Ian as they stand in the corner of the room.

“You’re not dancing.” Ian retorts, avoiding the question.

Mickey snorts. “Do I look like someone who likes fuckin’ dancing?”

“And I do?” Ian crosses his arms, defensively.

“More than me, asshole.” Mickey grins, and Ian just sighs. One thing he’s quickly learning is that there’s really no point in arguing with Mickey Milkovich.

“Oh my god, that was genius! Amazing!”

Suddenly they’re surrounded by people, and Ian’s thrown. Where the hell did everyone come from so quickly?

It’s mostly girls, actually, which Mickey seems to be very comfortable with.

Everyone’s applauding them for their “incredible” idea of coming together.

“The _look_ on Principal Morgan’s face!” One girl grins.

“Only you could pull that, Mickey!” Another says, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Ey, don’t give me the credit, Ian’s the one who asked.” Mickey says, playfully elbowing Ian, who feels his face flush crimson.

“Ian, huh?” says an interested voice, and Ian looks up to see that it’s Lila Manning, most gorgeous and most popular girl at school, _and_ prom date of his boyfriend.

“Yeah, hey.” Ian mumbles, not making direct eye contact.

It’s not that he’s really shy, per sé, but being surrounded by people that he doesn’t particularly like or even know is not exactly his ideal circumstance, especially when he knows interrogations are following.

“Where have I heard your name before?” Lila asks, looking at him up and down as if appraising him.

“It’s, uh, it’s a pretty common name. Irish, y’know?” Ian says, and immediately cusses himself out in his head for being such an idiot, but Mickey snickers at his side and Ian looks at him in surprise.

“Right, right.” Lila nods and smiles a bit, but Ian can tell she wasn’t entertained. “I’m sure you’re familiar though.”

“Well, uh, we go to the same school.” Ian says, and now he’s sure he can’t embarrass himself any further, but once again Mickey snorts in amusement beside him, and Ian feels his self-confidence level rising a little.

“Right, well,” Lila says, still smiling but seeming to acknowledge that she’s not really going to get anywhere, “I better go, my Danny will be looking for me! You guys were amazing, though, for real.”

She waves and motions for some girls to follow her, which they do.

Mickey has managed to shake off the rest of the herd, has a firm grip on Ian’s arm and is steering him in some direction, but Ian’s completely unaware.

All that’s going through his head is “my Danny will be looking for me.”

 _My_ Danny, as if he’s her property or something. As if he’s the sparkling jewelry that she wears on her arm to go along with her dress. It’s probably more accurate the other way around actually, Ian thinks bitterly to himself.

“Dude, what’s up your ass?”

“Huh?” Ian registers his surroundings—they’re right outside the dance, where a few other kids are lingering, getting some fresh air away from the sweaty crowd of teenagers—and looks in front of him at Mickey, who brings up a tattooed hand to snap in his face.

“Are you on something?” he asks, and Ian swats his hand away.

“No, fuck you.”

Mickey grins.

Ian starts to wonder if him cussing just puts Mickey in a better mood.

“I mean, I know you’re gay, but you could’ve given me a heads up that you were actually afraid of girls.” Mickey says, and Ian shoves him.

Mickey stumbles a few steps back, but he’s laughing.

“Fuck you, I am not.” Ian says, defensively.

“Oh please, you should’ve seen your face!” Mickey teases. “Is that the first time Lila Manning’s spoken to you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“I thought only the girls fawned over her like that.” Mickey continues relentlessly, and Ian just shoves him again.

“I was not _fawning_ over her.” Ian protests.

“You looked like you were gonna piss yourself.” Mickey argues.

“Okay, fuck off.” Ian retorts, and he really tries to look pissed off, but Mickey’s wide grin is infectious and he can’t help a smile from forming on his face. “Besides you loved it.”

“Me?” Mickey says, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, please, don’t play all innocent.” Ian says, glad that it’s now looking like his turn to pick on Mickey. “All those girls crowding around you? ‘So rebellious, Mickey!’ ‘So brave!’ ‘Such an inspiration.’ As if you took some mentally challenged kid out for a baseball game.” Ian snorts and Mickey continues to look at him in that questioning way.

“Hey, don’t fuckin’ twist this on me, _you’re_ the one who asked _me_ , remember?” Mickey stabs a finger at Ian’s chest and then his own, in order to really drive his point home.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying all the attention.” Ian insists.

“What, you mean girls like Lila Manning? They ain’t following me, they’re following the spotlight, and they will follow it no matter where it goes. Not my fault someone decided to point it at me.”

Ian is thrown off by this. He doesn’t know what he was expecting Mickey to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. He never really thought about it that way.

Now that he thinks about it though, it makes a lot of sense. Mickey never actively tries to get attention or get people to like him the way that Ian knows Danny does.

Danny really craves people’s approval—Ian sees the way it eats at him. He tries so hard to be incredibly nice and generous and kind and also to always look good and do well in his classes and be a part of every extracurricular available.

But Mickey doesn’t do that. Nothing Mickey does seems to be for anyone else, and yet people gravitate towards him anyway.

Mickey is looking at Ian expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something, and Ian has no idea what he’s going to say, but thankfully he’s spared, as Katie comes barreling through the door, giggling, dragging a sweaty Mason Keating behind her.

“Oh my gosh, thank God I found you guys!” she says, panting a bit to catch her breath.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asks.

“Nothing!” she assures him quickly. “But the slow dance is on next!” 

“So?”

Katie narrows her eyes at him. “So, Ian Gallagher, you know as well as I do that Prom Court positions are announced after the slow dance, and you’re not allowed to miss the dance! We always do the slow dance!”

“Yes, Katie, we always do it because we’re always each other’s dates.” Ian says, patiently.

“It’s my senior prom, humor me!” Katie says, and Ian rolls his eyes.

Of course she would pull that card.

“Come on, let’s do it.” Mickey says, and to Ian’s surprise, he steps forward and holds out his hand for Ian to take.

Katie squeals delightedly and turns to head back inside, Mason trotting along behind her.

“You serious?” Ian looks at Mickey, his eyes practically begging for an out.

Mickey grins and leans up to murmur a little more quietly, “Isn’t this the point? Give your boyfriend somethin’ to see?”

“Oh my god, you’re the fuckin’ worst.” Ian groans, but grabs Mickeys hand—a little more forcefully than necessary.

When the god-awful remix of whatever pop song it is that’s playing fades into gentle piano and strings, everyone naturally slows with it, and people shift to find their dates to dance with.

Ian faces Mickey awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself.

Mickey rolls his eyes. “You never done this before, Cinderella?”

Before Ian can even come up with a witty response, Mickey’s grabs Ian’s arms and secures them around his own waist, and then brings his own to rest on Ian’s shoulders.

“It’s really not that hard.” He adds, and Ian scowls at him, causing him to chuckle. “Aw, come on, Gallagher, lighten up. It’s prom, after all. Don’t be so anxious.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” Ian mumbles, making sure to lower his voice so that only Mickey can hear.

“What’ve you got your panties in a bunch over anyway?” Mickey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Da-my boyfriend.” Ian curses at himself in his head. That’s the second time he’s almost given himself away.

“What about him?” Mickey shrugs.

“I don’t know.” Ian sighs, and begins to look over Mickey’s head, trying to spot Danny. “I just don’t know how he feels about all this.”

“Ey, stop that.” Mickey says, and reaches his hand up to slap the back of Ian’s head.

“Ow!” Ian’s eyes snap back to Mickey’s. “What’d you do that for?”

“You being a fucking idiot. Whatever you say it was, the real point of you going to prom with another dude was to show your boyfriend that you’re not as boring and predictable as he thinks and that maybe once in a while he should actually listen to what you want, right?”

Ian stares at him. Until Mickey said those words, Ian still wasn’t sure exactly why he’d decided to go along with Katie’s plan of bringing another guy as his date to prom.

He was trying to make sense of it in his head, trying to come up with reasons why, but that right there—what Mickey just casually spat out in a sentence—that was it.

Mickey doesn’t wait for Ian to answer.

“It completely defeats the purpose if you keep moping about and looking around to see if he’s looking at you, doesn’t it? So lighten up, Red, and let yourself have some fun. And if he so happens to be pissed, you can just take him home and make it up to him.” Mickey waggles his eyebrows and Ian can’t help but snort.

“As if he’d ever come to my house.” he chuckles under his breath.

“He’s never been to your place?” Mickey asks, sounding surprised. Ian looks at him, not expecting him to think anything of his statement.

“Nah, we’re usually over at his.” Ian responds.

“How come?”

Ian hesitates. For a moment, he’s about to admit that he’s South Side and that he would be embarrassed if Danny ever came to his neighborhood, but then he remembers who he’s talking to and comes to his senses.

“Well, I have a lot of siblings, it’s kind of a full house.” Ian shrugs.

“Yeah, but like…not even for a family dinner? Like, meet the parents kind of shit?” Mickey continues, and Ian looks at him curiously.

He wonders why Mickey’s asking him all this.

“No, he hasn’t met my family.”

“How long have you been dating?” Mickey persists.

“Like four months now?” Ian says, phrasing it as a question, as he still doesn’t understand why Mickey’s suddenly so curious.

“Four months and he hasn’t once wanted to meet your family or even...see your room?”

“What’s with the interrogation?” Ian furrows his eyebrows at him, starting to feel a little uncomfortable.

“I…” Mickey pauses. “I guess it just seemed strange to me is all. Not that I’m one to talk. Mandy’s longest relationship lasted like a month, max.” He snorts a little at this, and Ian relaxes again.

 “Mandy, like your little sister?” he asks.

“Yeah, who else?” Ian nods.

Mandy Milkovich is in his grade, but she’s not quite at her brother’s popularity level. She seems to be more than okay with that though. Ian’s always thought she was somewhat of a loner. A very fiery, outspoken loner, but not someone who really gets along with a lot of people.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Mickey asks, looking confused.

“How long was your longest relationship?” 

Mickey raises his eyebrows. “Why do you wanna know?”

“It’s just a question.” Ian shrugs.

Mickey eyes him for a moment but then drops the suspicious look.

“I’m not much of a relationship kinda guy.” he says.

“Never found a girl good enough for the one and only Mickey Milkovich?” Ian teases, and Mickey reaches his hand up to flick Ian’s ear.

“Ey, fuck you.” he retorts, almost automatically. “Nah, that’s not it. I dunno, just never felt right, y’know?”

Ian nods. Boy, does he know.

The song comes to an end, and Ian looks around him in surprise.

He’d almost forgotten that they were surrounded by other people and that it wasn’t just the two of them alone, talking.

“Ladies and gentlemen! It is time to announce this year’s Prom Court winners!” Mrs. Halloran has taken the stage and is speaking—rather loudly—into a microphone at them.

“Oh god, this bullshit.” Mickey groans and Ian grins a little.

He’d never tell Danny, but he can’t help but find the whole Prom Court thing really tacky.

“First, I would like to announce this year’s nominations for Prom Queen! When you hear your name called, please come up to the stage.”

She opens up a slip of paper and begins reading from it. “Lila Manning, Kayla Patterson, and Jenna Stein!”

Ian claps politely along with everyone else as the three girls walk up the stairs to stand on stage. They’re all very pretty, Ian observes objectively.

Of course Lila is the most conventionally pretty, with high cheekbones, big eyes, and windblown golden hair, the epitome of American beauty.

It’s irrational as hell, because he knows Danny’s gay, but Ian can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

“And now for this year’s Prom King nominations,” Mrs. Halloran continues after the applause has died down. “Daniel Jones, Justin Langley, and Mickey Milkovich!”

“Are you fucking shitting me?” Mickey swears, and Ian cracks up.

“This is the best thing that’s happened all night.” he grins.

“Oh, fuck you.” Mickey scowls, looking like he’s in pain.

“Go, get on stage, Mr. Potential Prom King.” Ian chuckles.

Mickey shoves him before reluctantly walking over to head up on stage.

Ian watches with a grin, which slowly fades when he sees Mickey make a side comment to Danny, with a smirk planted on his face.

Danny nods curtly, but Ian can tell he’s highly uncomfortable.

He knows Mickey’s not too fond of Danny, but he didn’t think they had any sort of bad blood.

“Alright, ladies and gentleman! Your votes have been counted and by a very close margin, your Prom King and Queen are…” she pauses as she opens a second envelope and opens it to read. “Daniel Jones and Lila Manning!”

Ian applauds loudly as his boyfriend's face breaks into a smile and he and Lila step forward to accept their crowds.

His eyes are briefly drawn away to look at Mickey, who looks utterly relieved.

He grins widely; he may not know Mickey all too well, but from what he knows already, Mickey and Prom King are two things that just do not mesh well.

“Daniel and Lila and the other nominees, please follow Dean Koehler to take official Prom Court pictures for the yearbook. Everyone give it up for your Prom Court members!” Mrs. Halloran says, initiating another round of applause, as everyone on stage begins to walk off and follow Dean Koehler.

Ian’s grinning and shaking his head when he feels someone grab onto his arm. He whips around and sees Mickey with a hard set expression on his face.

“If I am going through this hell, you are going through it with me.” He says through gritted teeth, dragging Ian with him as he follows Justin Langley in line.

Ian laughs, which just causes Mickey to scowl at him.

They head out to the lobby and take a turn into the college counseling offices, where a photographer has set up with a white backdrop.

“Fucking hell.” Mickey murmurs under his breath, and Ian presses his lips together in attempt to keep from laughing.

“Ian,” comes a voice, and Ian jumps.

He turns his head and finds Danny standing behind him.

Lila’s a few steps away, fixing her hair in the reflection of the window.

“Hey,” he breathes out. No matter how many times he sees Danny, he’s always thrown by just how gorgeous he is.

“Big entrance at presentation, huh?” Danny says, raising his eyebrows.

Ian lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really think ahead.”

Danny’s about to speak again, when Dean Koehler interrupts.

“Okay, let’s do the King and Queen alone first.” he says, ushering Lila and Danny forward.

Danny nods at Ian and steps forward with Lila to take the picture.

“No _fucking_ way.” Mickey says, with a power behind his words that shocks Ian.

“What?” Ian asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s him.”

“What?” Ian repeats, now confused.

“Danny-boy the Third. He’s your boyfriend.”


	3. After The Show Is The Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Guys!” Mickey yells to the group of people he was drinking with. “Ian is not drunk yet!”  
> The group loudly boos, one girl getting so into it that she actually stumbles over at the force of her own voice.  
> Ian chuckles and allows Mickey to hand him a cup.  
> He has no idea what’s in it, and he’s not exactly the type to drink unidentified beverages, but he looks at Mickey, who has a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, and decides, fuck it.  
> He chugs it, and everyone cheers him on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh i'm sorry about the wait. i've been traveling for the past few days and i'm hella busy. i will try to be better about it!

Ian, Mickey, Katie, and Mason arrive at the afterparty a little bit after everyone else, because Mickey suggested they stop for fries and obviously no one was going to turn that down.

By the time they get there, everyone’s already drinking heavily.

Ian rolls his eyes slightly. Maybe it’s because he’s been surrounded by alcohol since he was born, but the way kids at his school drink always bothered him.

No pacing, and everyone’s drunk within minutes, and it’s crying, puking, sloppy hooking up kind of drunk. Not his cup of tea.

He grabs a beer anyway though.

Mason agreed to be the designated driver, and Ian’s still a Gallagher—he’s never gonna pass up the opportunity to get drunk.

Neither, apparently, is Mickey, who immediately grabs a can of beer, pierces a hole in the side with a knife he yanks out of his pocket—which at this point doesn’t surprise Ian in the least—and shotguns it.

Several people turn their attention to him as he does it and cheer him on, and Ian uses this opportunity to slink away and find Danny.

Now that he knows Danny and Mickey are not exactly the best of friends, he’s not sure how he’s going to be greeted by his boyfriend. That’s another thing he didn’t think about—Danny’s reaction to his little stunt.

He didn’t really think about a lot going into this, honestly.

Ian takes another big swig from his beer. The sooner he can be drunk and stop worrying about everything, the better.

He finds Danny outside, sitting on one of the picnic tables with a cup in hand. Surprisingly, he’s alone, and Ian’s heart leaps. Maybe he’s waiting for him? He did say that they would get to spend the rest of the night together.

“Hey.” Ian says, jumping up to sit next to Danny on the picnic table.

“Ian, hey.” Danny replies, looking at him like he’s surprised to see him.

“Are you drunk yet?” Ian asks.

Danny grins, and brings his cup to his lips. “Not quite yet, but I’m getting there.”

“Same here,” Ian smiles and raises his beer up before taking another drink himself.

It’s not true, of course, but what does that matter?

Ian sighs and puts his beer down next to him, raising his hand to trace up Danny’s back.

Instantly, he feels Danny’s muscles tense under his hand.

“Ian, babe…” Danny murmurs, a warning in his voice. “Not here.”

Ian leans over and rests his chin on Danny’s shoulder, a little smile growing on his face.

“Come on, Danny. Nobody’s looking, we’re at least ten feet away from everyone, and they’re all drunk off their asses anyway.”

Danny shrugs Ian off of him. “It’s too risky.”

Ian sighs, frustrated. “Okay, so am I gonna see you after?”

Danny takes another drink. “Uh…I think I’m actually gonna spend the night here. Lila was supposed to drive but she’s trashed.”

Ian gapes at him. So he’s just straight up bailing completely?

“Are you pissed at me or something?”

“Why would I be pissed at you?”

“I don’t know! There’s apparently some shit between you and Mickey that I didn’t know about.”

It comes out before Ian’s able to stop it. He bites down on the inside of his cheek, worried that he went too far.

But Danny just chuckles. 

“Babe, I’m not mad at you for going to prom with Mickey Milkovich.” He says, with a smile, and Ian relaxes a bit. “It was cute, you trying to make me jealous.” 

“Wait, t-that’s not what I was—” Ian tries to stutter out, but Danny cuts in to continue.

“And we don’t have beef or anything. You know, he’s just…” Danny looks off, and Ian follows his line of sight to where a circle of people are cheering Mickey on as he chugs from a keg.

“Just what?” Ian asks, curious to know what it is about Mickey that puts Danny on edge.

“You know,” Danny leans in a bit and lowers his voice, even though there’s no one directly around them. “Not a lot of people know this, but Mickey’s on a scholarship—which is cool and all, but he’s…you know, he’s from the South Side.”

Ian feels his stomach jolt uncomfortably.

“So what?” He asks, tentatively. 

“So his dad’s a violent criminal. Terry Milkovich, been arrested half a million times, currently serving five-to-ten for beating a gay man within an inch of his life. His entire family is basically a gang by itself. I’m surprised he hasn’t been caught with a weapon or a pound of crack at school and gotten expelled yet.”

Ian pauses. That’s a lot of information thrown at him rather quickly. He’s not sure what to think about Danny’s implication about the South Side.

He knows Danny's referring to Mickey and not Ian, but it's not exactly the greatest thing to hear from someone he’s in a relationship with.

And then there’s the fact that Mickey’s actually from the South Side.

Ian never knew that. Never even considered it. But now that he thinks about it, it actually makes a lot of sense.

His hard outer shell, his habit of turning everything into a quip, it’s all just a classic defense mechanism that stems from growing up on the South Side.

Ian’s seen it before, maybe not as extreme of a case as Mickey, but it’s definitely familiar.

The news about his dad does surprise him.

Mickey hasn’t been remotely weird about Ian being gay, agreeing to come as his date kind of proved to Ian that Mickey wasn’t at all homophobic—not that Ian ever really thought he was.

“How do you know all of this anyway?” Ian asks. “About Mickey, and his family and everything?”

Danny fidgets uncomfortably. “Uh…well, y’know, last year, before I came out…I kinda dated his sister for a little while.”

Ian’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“You dated Mandy?”

Danny sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I did.”

Ian grins. “I would never have guessed. She is so completely not your type.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m gay, yeah, she couldn’t be further from my type.” Danny smirks.

Ian bumps against him playfully. “You know what I mean.”

He rests his face against Danny’s shoulder affectionately.

“Ian,” Danny says in that disapproving tone of voice. “Not here.”

 Ian sighs, but along with the usual disappointment, he feels a twinge of anger hit him this time.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” He says, grabbing his beer and getting off the picnic table. “Text me if you wanna hang out with your dirty little secret.”

He walks off, and doesn’t turn around when he hears Danny call his name after him. He’s pissed, like really fucking pissed.

He’s never been pissed at Danny. Sure, they’ve had their little arguments and sometimes they get on each other’s nerves, but never anything like this.

For a second Ian worries that maybe he overreacted, but then he decides that no, he didn’t.

Danny had promised that they would spend the afterparty and the rest of the night together, and now they’re not doing either.

Ian had gone to all this trouble of making sure he brought a senior date to prom so that he’d be able to see and hang out with his boyfriend, and Danny just dismissed their plans so casually.

“Gallagher!”

Ian shakes his head slightly to get out of the little angry bubble he’s in and looks up to find Mickey walking towards him with a grin on his face.

He’s clearly drunk at this point, and is barely able to walk straight.

“Why aren’t you off with Danny-boy?” Mickey asks, slinging his arm around Ian.

“Doesn’t want anyone to see us.” Ian grumbles in response.

“What?” Mickey slurs, dragging out the word. “Man, fuck him, let’s get you trashed!”

And he starts marching back in the direction he came from, dragging Ian with him as his arm is still around his neck.

“Guys!” Mickey yells to the group of people he was drinking with. “Ian is not drunk yet!”

The group loudly boos, one girl getting so into it that she actually stumbles over at the force of her own voice.

Ian chuckles and allows Mickey to hand him a cup.

He has no idea what’s in it, and he’s not exactly the type to drink unidentified beverages, but he looks at Mickey, who has a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, and decides, _fuck it._

He chugs it, and everyone cheers him on.


	4. Sunday Morning Type Of Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian has never been this confrontational with Danny before.   
> He usually just lets everything slide, figuring it’s really not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things.  
> But this is fucking bullshit.   
> He gets that Danny isn’t ready to be public about their relationship, he really does. But it’s not like Danny is still closeted and needs a beard or anything. And yet, Lila Manning is practically his fucking girlfriend. She was the reason Danny insisted on staying the night at the afterparty and now she's the reason Danny's staying out tonight. Ian bitterly wants to spit out that he might as well be fucking Lila instead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kind of a filler chapter, but good things are coming so just be patient with me :)

On Sunday morning, Ian wakes up feeling like he was just whacked over the head with a frying pan. He groans into the pillow and knows that this is just not going to be a pleasant day, and he’s going to have to get through it anyway.

He rolls over and groans some more, because not only is his head throbbing, but his back aches. He slept on the floor last night, letting Katie take his bed. 

They were both far too drunk to head back to Katie’s house after the party, so they instead got Mason to drop them off at Ian’s. His eyes widened slightly as they drove through Ian’s neighborhood, but he didn’t say anything about it and Ian was too drunk to care.

Ian hears a groan from above him, and despite how shitty he feels, he grins.

At least he won’t be alone with his hangover.

By the time Ian and Katie both manage to get out of bed and shower and put fresh clothes on, most of the Gallagher family has left to take care of whatever responsibilities they have for today.

Debbie is babysitting for the Sloans, the crazy religious couple down the street, who will never miss a Sunday at church but refuse to take their three screaming kids with them—one can only guess why.

Fiona has gone to drop off Liam at daycare and then go to work as usual, and Carl is missing too, along with the baseball bat, which can never be a good thing.

Lip’s the only one in the kitchen when Katie and Ian trek downstairs, and he’s hunched over a textbook, scribbling onto a notepad furiously.

“Homework?” Ian asks, yawning, and immediately heading for the coffee pot.

“Studying.” Lip replies, not looking up or pausing from his rapid note-taking. “Got a huge test tomorrow.”

“You’ll ace it.” Ian says, almost automatically at this point, as he pours both himself and Katie a cup of coffee. They both take their mugs and join Lip at the kitchen table, dropping their heads down on it simultaneously.

Lip chuckles. “Long night?”

“Oh, god.” Katie groans.

“Ah, prom. I remember those days.” Lip says, a grin in his voice.

“You graduated last year, dipshit.” Ian mutters, raising his head enough to take a large sip of coffee.

“And thank fuck I did.” Lip nods, and refocuses his attention to the textbook in front of him. “Now fuck off, I have to study.”

Ian flips him off, but rises from the chair and heads back upstairs with his coffee, Katie two steps behind him.

“This is the worst hangover I’ve had since my cousin’s wedding last year.” Katie complains, sitting down on Ian’s bed and setting her coffee down on his bedside table.

“Fuck, I have to work tonight.” Ian realizes with horror. 

Katie looks at him with a sympathetic expression, and before they know it, they’re both asleep again.

***

Ian feels like he’s been working forever, and his creepy boss staring at him the whole time doesn’t make any of it better.

On the bright side, his hangover has somewhat subsided so he no longer feels like he’s dying, but on the other hand, he has two more hours on his shift and Kash’s predatory eyes are looking him up and down like he’s appraising him or something.

He’s generally used to it, his boss is always hitting on him—he’s pretty sure that’s part of the reason he was hired.

He’s doesn't usually whine about it though; his family could always do with the money, and it’s a decent paying job.

Occasionally though , he’s made the mistake of complaining about his pervy boss to Danny, and he’s always been given the same response. 

“Why don’t you just quit?” 

“File a report in management!”

“Call him out on it, then.”

As if any of those were viable options for Ian. 

He’s been thinking a lot about Danny today. He texted him earlier, but it’s been several hours and he hasn’t gotten an answer yet. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about last night. He knows he had a shit ton of fun with Katie and Mickey after he got enough alcohol in his system, but he’s still pretty pissed that Danny pissed all over their plans so casually. 

It just makes Ian feel so unimportant, like Danny really couldn’t care less about spending any time with him.

He doesn’t really know what—if anything—he should do about it. He and Danny have never really fought before. 

Is this even a fight? 

It feels like a fight to Ian. 

He knows what he wants to happen—he wants Danny to apologize to him, but he also knows how stupid that is.

Danny’s not exactly the apologizing type. He’s also not the type to ever admit when he’s wrong, mainly because he doesn’t ever think he’s wrong.

The more Ian thinks about it, the more pissed off he gets. 

He’s the one who should be avoiding Danny’s texts, not the other way round. He hasn’t done anything, and yet he’s actually feeling guilty. 

By the time his shift his over, his staunch determination to wait until Danny reaches out to him first has worn thin. 

Unable to even wait until he gets back home, he calls Danny on the way.

It rings a few times before he hears a “hello?” on the other end.

“Danny.”

“Ian?” 

There’s a lot of background noise on Danny’s end of the line, and Ian presses his phone as close to his ear as he can.

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”

“What?” Danny calls back loudly.

“I can barely hear you! Where are you?” Ian says back, just as loudly.

“Lila’s parents are having a pool day, there’s like a hundred people here!” Danny yells. Ian rolls his eyes to himself.

Of course. The Mannings will use any excuse to have a party and show off their exquisite estate. Ian’s never actually been to the Manning Mansion—as the kids at school call it—but he’s seen enough pictures to know that it probably cost more than every piece of real estate on the South Side put together.

“Can I see you tonight?” Ian asks. A few people on the street scowl at him for his volume level, but he ignores them and keeps walking.

“Yeah!” Danny replies and Ian’s heart leaps. He hears Danny say something to someone else on his end and then he speaks again. “Sorry, that was Kyle. Fucker’s high as shit.”

Ian laughs, already feeling so much better.

“So tonight?” He asks again, wanting to make sure he has a confirmation.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanna come sneak in at like midnight? My ‘rents are here at the pool too, so they’ll be passed the fuck out as soon as they get home.”

And just like that, the floaty feeling Ian felt is gone and his heart sinks again.

“Oh.” He says. “Can we not do anything before? Get takeout or something?”

Danny hesitates, and even with all the noise on his end, Ian can hear him sigh.

“I told Lila I’d stay pretty late tonight.”

“You’re ditching me for Lila?” Ian demands.

“Don’t be dramatic, Ian, I’m not ditching you. I just already told her I’d stay.”

 “Yeah, and you told me we’d spend last night together.” Ian has never been this confrontational with Danny before. 

He usually just lets everything slide, figuring it’s really not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things.

But this is fucking bullshit. 

He gets that Danny isn’t ready to be public about their relationship, he really does. But it’s not like Danny is still closeted and needs a beard or anything. And yet, Lila Manning is practically his fucking girlfriend. She was the reason Danny insisted on staying the night at the afterparty and now she's the reason Danny's staying out tonight. Ian bitterly wants to spit out that he might as well be fucking Lila instead of him.

“That wasn’t my fault, Ian.” Danny says, in that familiar tone he uses whenever he’s frustrated with Ian, and it’s only this time that Ian notices how fucking condescending it sounds.

“I don’t fucking care whose fault it was, you shouldn’t have promised if you weren’t going to stick by it.”

 “Ian, I really can’t have this conversation right now. Can we just talk about it tonight?”

“I’m not coming over at midnight just so we can fuck before you kick me out. You can go fuck yourself.”

And he hangs up before he has time to even process what he just said.

As soon as he does though, he stops dead in his tracks.

“Holy shit, what did I just do?” He mumbles to himself.

“Uh…Ian? You okay?”

“Huh?” He looks up to see Debbie, watching him with a worried expression on her face. 

He casts his eyes around and realizes that he’s standing in front of the fence outside the Gallagher house, he’s made it all the way home without even paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” He replies, and ruffles up Debbie’s hair before hopping up the stairs and heading into the house.


	5. You're Mine Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though he’s basically Mickey’s slave for today, Ian’s figured out he actually kind of likes hanging out with Mickey.
> 
> Sure, he’s abrasive and rude and aggressive, but he’s funny too, and Ian’s not going to lie—the fact that he’s South Side is appealing in a weird sort of way.
> 
> It’s a connection that Ian doesn’t have with any of his friends from school and he likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH i'm sorry about the wait i'm the worst
> 
> anyway enjoy this chapter :)

Sunday night, around midnight, Ian gets a text from Danny, that reads: _I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk tomorrow after school?_ to which Ian simply replies an OK.

He still isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to think or feel about all this.

He loves Danny, but these past few days have been kind of crazy, and he needs to figure out what it is he wants and whether it’s at all possible.

He knows that he has to have what he wants to say prepared before he goes to talk to Danny, because if he doesn’t, Danny will just wear that smile and charm him into forgiving him.

And if there’s one thing Ian’s sure about, it’s that he’s not just going to take every bullshit excuse lying down anymore.

Monday morning he arrives at school with only this conversation on his mind.

He’s been rehearsing what he’s planning to say over and over again in his head ever since he woke up, as if it’s a speech he has to give in his English Lit class.

Which is the only reason why he almost jumps a foot in the air when a hand slams against the locker next to his.

“Holy sh—” he gasps and then looks over to the source of the noise—a grinning Mickey Milkovich.

“Oh fuck.” Ian swears, as he suddenly remembers what today is.

Mickey’s grin grows even wider, if that’s at all possible.

“‘Oh fuck’ is right, Gallagher. Remember? You’re mine today.” he says, with a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Come on.”

He turns to walk away, and Ian knows he has no choice but to follow him.

“Where are we going?” Ian asks, but Mickey doesn’t respond, or even give any indication that he heard him.

“Mickey, I have class in five minutes.” he tries again, but to no avail.

It’s only when they reach the parking lot where Ian finally decides to catch up to Mickey and grab him by the shoulder.

Mickey stops and looks at Ian’s hand in such a threatening way that Ian is slightly unsure of what kind of a mess he got himself into and immediately withdraws the offending limb.

Just like that, Mickey’s grin is back. 

“Sorry, Firecrotch, you’re not gonna make it to class today.” he says, and turns back to continue walking.

“What?” Mickey just snorts. “You think that the one day I have some kid doing whatever the fuck I want, I’m gonna waste it at school? Please.”

Ian really didn’t think about it that way; he thought he might have to do some shitty favor for Mickey that he just didn’t want to do himself.

He didn’t think he’d be following orders all day. “Okay, then where are we going?” Ian says, instead.

“Christ, do you ever stop talking?” Mickey replies, and Ian scowls at the back of his head.

“Saw that.”

Ian gapes at him. “I swear, you’re a fucking wizard or some shit, there’s no way you could’ve seen that.”

Mickey stops walking, a wide grin on his face.

Ian sighs. “What now?”

“Nothing, man, we’re heading out.” he says, and nods his head, gesturing to the rather large motorcycle in front of them.

“You have a fucking motorbike?” Ian asks, and before he can stop himself, adds, “I thought you were South Side.”

Mickey’s grin fades, and he raises his eyebrows at Ian in a challenging way. “Yeah, I’m fucking South Side. The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ian immediately backtracks. “It just looks expensive as hell.”

“Oh, so because I’m South Side, that means I’m dirt ass poor and can’t afford shit, right?” Mickey crosses his arms and glares at him.

“Shit, no, Mickey, that’s not what I—” Ian cusses himself out in the head, not knowing how to get out of this hole he just dug himself into.

“Oh yeah? What did you mean then?” Mickey looks downright scary.

“I’m South Side, too.” Ian says, surprising even himself.

“Bullshit.” Mickey instantly retorts.

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

It’s a fair point, and Mickey stays silent.

“I just know there’s no way my family would be able to afford a bike like that is all.” Ian mumbles, looking down at the ground.

He can feel Mickey’s blue eyes watching him curiously.

“You really South Side?” he asks.

Ian nods. “Born and raised.”

“And you’re at Wilson Magnet?”

“I have good grades.” Ian says, defensively.

Suddenly, Mickey’s grin is back.

“Well, well, what are the odds? Probably the only South Side kids at this shithole and we fuckin’ go to prom together.” he shakes his head, still grinning and lifts the seat of his bike to pull a helmet out.

Ian just stands there, slightly dumbfounded, as Mickey presses the helmet to his chest.

“It’s a helmet, Red.” Mickey says, slowly. “You put it on your head.”

Ian zones back in and grabs the helmet with one hand, flipping Mickey off with the other.

Mickey mounts the motorcycle with ease, and starts the ignition, revving the engine to life. Ian has the momentary thought of, _what the hell am I doing?_ before shrugging, securing the helmet over his head, and climbing on to the bike, gingerly putting his arms around Mickey’s waist.

“You’re gonna have to hold on tighter than that if you don’t wanna fall off, Gallagher.” Mickey calls over the noise of the engine.

Ian rolls his eyes to himself, but tightens his grip around Mickey.

As soon as he does, Mickey takes off, speeding them out of the school parking lot.

It takes Ian by surprise and he instinctively squeezes around Mickey’s middle like his life depends on it.

By the way Mickey is swerving dangerously close to the cars in the lot, Ian thinks that maybe it does.

When they’re actually on the road, Ian’s sure that this is the way it’s all going to end.

Mickey’s weaving between cars, not even bothering to remain within the lanes, and after maybe the fourth or fifth car honks at them, Ian squeezes his eyes shut, deciding that he’d rather not see his imminent death coming.

He starts to kind of get used to it though, the wind whistling and whipping his t-shirt back, the tilting from side to side as Mickey passes car after car, and just when the nervous knot in his stomach starts to loosen, Mickey pulls to an abrupt stop.

Ian delicately opens his eyes and looks through the visor of the helmet.

He vaguely recognizes the street they’re on—it’s in the South Side, he’s pretty sure he walks past it to get to work.

“Hey Gallagher, you can loosen up on that death grip you got on me.” Mickey turns his head, grinning widely.

Ian suddenly realizes he’s still got his arms tightly wrapped around Mickey and immediately lets go.

Mickey chuckles, and climbs off the bike, and Ian follows suit.

“Where are we?” Ian asks, taking off the helmet and handing it back to Mickey, who hangs it on one of the handlebars.

“Home sweet home.” Mickey says, gesturing to the house they’re parked in front of. Ian looks up.

The Milkovich house is bigger than the Gallagher one, but definitely in worse shape.

The paint is past the point of peeling, it’s like half of it is scraped off completely. The door is hanging slightly off center, the little bit of grass that’s in front is overgrown with weeds and there’s trash and cigarette butts strewn everywhere.

It’s not a pretty sight, but to Ian, it’s familiar.

“Come on.” Mickey says, and starts to walk towards the door.

Ian follows him.

The inside of the house is no different than the outside. There’s a distinct smell of mustiness, the furniture is old and fallen apart, and there’s just stuff lying everywhere.

It’s not quite as warm and friendly as the Gallagher home, but then again, Mickey’s not exactly the fuzziest of characters.

Ian follows Mickey through the empty living room to a door hanging slightly off its hinges, with a cardboard sign, warning “Stay the fuck out!”

Ian smirks a little to himself. Definitely Mickey’s room.

“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why I’m in your room and what exactly I’m supposed to be doing?” Ian asks, crossing his arms and leaning against Mickey’s closed door.

“Don’t sound so suspicious. I’m just making you do my chores.” Mickey says with a grin.

Ian gapes at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I hate laundry!” Mickey replies, defensively.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Ian mutters, smirking.

“‘Scuse you?” Mickey raises his eyebrows at him, threateningly, but he’s still sort of grinning.

“Nothing.” Ian says, smiling innocently.

Mickey shoves him in the arm and Ian laughs.

Even though he’s basically Mickey’s slave for today, Ian’s figured out he actually kind of likes hanging out with Mickey.

Sure, he’s abrasive and rude and aggressive, but he’s funny too, and Ian’s not going to lie—the fact that he’s South Side is appealing in a weird sort of way.

It’s a connection that Ian doesn’t have with any of his friends from school and he likes it.

Mickey tosses him a full laundry bag, which Ian catches purely on reflex.

“Get to it, Cinderella.” he says and Ian scowls at him, which just makes him bark out a laugh.

*

If Ian never sees a dirty plate again in his life, it’ll be too soon.

He’s been at Mickey’s, doing his chores, for two hours, and his patience has been stretched to its absolute breaking point.

He knows that Mickey has no interest in how his prom actually turned out and that they did make a deal and all, but after his prom plans with Danny went so catastrophically, he really does not need this right now.

Oh, and there’s also the fact that Mickey is in the living room playing video games and his volume level proves he has absolutely no consideration for other people, especially not the person who is doing all of his housework for him.

“Ha!”

Yet another yell comes from the living room and Ian quietly fumes at the sink.

“Gotcha, you fucker! Eat my bullets, faggot!”

Ian feels what’s remaining of his patience fall apart. He drops the last plate in the drying rack and shakes out his hands.

“I’m done.” he says, walking into the living room and wiping the remaining water off his hands on his jeans.

“Already?” Mickey says, with a mischievous grin, his eyes not once leaving the screen.

“Yep. All your filthy clothes now clean and folded, your insect-infected carpet now vacuumed, your bed now made and no, I don’t want to talk about all the shit I found underneath the mattress, and all the dishes are washed and cleaned, which is something I don’t think has happened in this house for several years, judging by the amount of fungus I found.”

Mickey presses something on his controller that pauses his game and looks up at Ian with an amused expression.

“Well, someone sounds grumpy.”

Ian’s eyebrows shoot up and he instinctively crosses his arms.

He doesn’t know exactly why he’s jumped into defense mode—it’s not like he doesn’t hear the word ‘faggot’ practically every day at school. He’s immune to it by now, so it really makes no sense that he’d be so offended by it now. But there is something different this time.

He isn’t at school. He isn’t in that little bubble where he doesn’t have to worry about anything beyond grades and petty teenage drama.

He’s _home_.

Well, not home-home, but South Side home.

Ian’s more protective over himself when he’s in his own neighborhood—he has to be, and he naturally slips back into it as soon as he’s in that environment again.

“Grumpy? Do you have any idea how many bacterial infections I could develop just from being near half the shit I was near today? This house is a fucking biohazard.”

Ian expects Mickey to get offended, but he just chuckles.

“Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a twist, pretty boy. You think you can still manage getting your ass kicked in Lords of Warfare?”

Mickey holds up the controller, wagging his eyebrows.

Ian narrows his eyes at him, like he’s trying to figure him out, and then caves and grabs the controller out of Mickey’s hand.

Mickey’s grin grows wider.

*

Ian always thought he wasn’t that great at video games, since he would always lose to Lip when they were kids, but as he plays round after round of Lords of Warfare with Mickey, he starts to figure out that either Lip is just as brilliant at video games as he is at physics, or Mickey just sucks.

As Ian defeats Mickey in the final round with a smattering of bullets, he tosses his controller to the side and crows victoriously.

“Who’s the faggot now?” he grins as Mickey cusses under his breath. “I just made you my bitch!”

At this, Mickey chuckles.

“Damn, didn’t know you were this fucking competitive, Gallagher.” Ian shrugs, feeling proud of himself.

“Didn’t know you were this much of a loser.” Ian retorts, wanting to be aggressive but unable to keep the little grin off his face.

Mickey turns to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Okay, what’s up your ass?”

Ian looks back at him. 

“What do you mean?” he asks innocently.

“You still butthurt over me making you clean all my shit?”

“Did you really want me to do your fucking chores for you or did you just want to humiliate me and make stupid gay jokes in the comfort of your fucking home?”

There’s a very long, silent pause.

“Seriously?” Mickey finally says. “That’s what it is?”

Ian shrugs and looks away.

“Fucking hell, man.” Mickey leans over to grab something from the table and Ian sees him light a cigarette from the corner of his eye. “Didn’t think you’d be sensitive about that kinda shit.”

“I’m not sensitive.” Ian says, immediately on the defensive.

“You just got pissed at me for saying ‘faggot’. Thought you were South Side?”

“Just ‘cause I’m South Side doesn’t mean I’m a douchebag.” comes Ian’s quick response.

Mickey pauses at this.

“A’ight, you’re right, you’re right. Sorry, man, okay?”

Ian looks at him incredulously. “Did Mickey Milkovich just apologize to me?”

Mickey shoots him a glare and elbows him, but then allows the smile to creep back onto his face.

“Wanna play again?” He asks and Ian grins.

“You really want to be fucking demolished again?”

“Bite me.” Mickey shoots back, grabbing his controller again.


	6. Whatever I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian grins.
> 
> It’s true; despite having to do Mickey’s chores for the most part of the morning, he actually kind of enjoyed himself the rest of the time.
> 
> Sure, Mickey’s abrasive and rude, and yeah, the only reason he’s there in the first place is because Mickey gets to tell him what to do all day, but he still had fun. It’s weird to think that he and Mickey Milkovich actually have so much in common, and even weirder to be able to kind of visualize what it’d be like to have a friend that’s also from the South Side.
> 
> Not that he and Mickey are suddenly friends or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't even have an excuse for why this is so late. All I can say is, I'm sorry. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

After a lunch of pizza rolls that Mickey forces Ian to make—purely because he has the power to—Mickey tells Ian to get his shoes on, shoving his own feet into a ratty old pair of sneakers and swinging a backpack onto his shoulder.

“What horrific things are you going to make me do next?” Ian asks, feigning extreme fear.

Mickey just rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, you’ve had a real awful time showing your face with my food and playing video games.”

Ian grins.

It’s true; despite having to do Mickey’s chores for the most part of the morning, he actually kind of enjoyed himself the rest of the time.

Sure, Mickey’s abrasive and rude, and yeah, the only reason he’s there in the first place is because Mickey gets to tell him what to do all day, but he still had fun. It’s weird to think that he and Mickey Milkovich actually have so much in common, and even weirder to be able to kind of visualize what it’d be like to have a friend that’s also from the South Side.

Not that he and Mickey are suddenly friends or anything.

“Where are we going?” Ian asks, following Mickey out of the house.

“Do you ever stop asking questions, Gallagher?” Mickey says, but it’s with a grin in his voice.

Ian grumbles to himself, but he supposes he should’ve known better than to expect Mickey to actually give him a straight answer.

Ian follows him anyway. 

He’s not really paying attention, because all the streets they’re passing are familiar. This is Ian’s neighborhood, and the fact that Mickey is so clearly comfortable here somehow just puts him at ease.

He definitely didn’t expect it.

Mickey is always so confident at school, even though he’s always being stared at, that Ian just assumed that he belonged in the same socioeconomic sphere as everyone else.

Ian’s starting to wonder if Mickey’s uncomfortable anywhere at all.

Probably formal adult events, he thinks, considering the FUCK U-UP knuckle tattoos and just…everything that’s so Mickey about him.

Ian finally starts paying attention when he realizes they’re approaching the old baseball field. He grins, childhood memories rushing back to him.

“I used to play Little League here.” He says, fondly.

“I got kicked out of Little League here.” Mickey responds, leading them to the dugouts and dropping his backpack on the bench. It lands with a heavy thunk, leading Ian to wonder what the hell is in there.

“What’d you do?” Ian asks, hopping up to sit against the rusty fence.

“Pissed on first base.” Mickey shrugs, turning to open up the backpack. Ian cranes his neck to see what he’s taking out, but there’s no need: Mickey’s already turned back with two cans of beer in his hand.

“Want one?” he asks, holding one out for Ian to take.

“Thanks.” Ian reaches out and takes it, popping it open and taking a large gulp. “So why are we here?”

Mickey hops up to sit next to Ian, opening his own can of beer and chugging at least half of it in one go, belching loudly afterwards.

He shrugs.

“Usually the time my dad gets home.”

Ian doesn’t ask him to elaborate. If Mickey’s dad is anything like Frank, he doesn’t need any further explanation. 

He does, however, remember something he heard on prom night.

“I thought your dad was in prison.”

Mickey looks at him curiously, clearly wondering where he got that. He doesn’t ask though, just answers, “Got out two months ago for overcrowding.”

Ian feels he’s not supposed to respond to this, so he just nods, and raises his can to his lips again.

Neither of them say anything, but they really don’t have to—it’s just nice sitting there in the dugouts, drinking beer and soaking in the odd energy around them.

It’s only when Ian turns to look at Mickey, who’s finishing off his can of beer, and sees his knuckle tattoos that he’s tempted to speak again.

“What’s the story behind those?” he asks. 

Mickey crushes his can easily in one hand and tosses it, looking at Ian with a curious expression. 

Ian blushes, feeling Mickey’s blue eyes boring into him.

But then he just shrugs and gets up to fish another can of beer out of his backpack.

“No real story. Just a shitty old joke with my brothers. They used to say that I always looked up for a fight, always ready to fuck someone up.” He pops open his second beer and takes a big swig out of it. “So Iggy gave me the tats when I was fourteen.”

Ian thinks on this, a whole new slew of information on Mickey Milkovich just awarded to him. It’s funny, they’ve been going to the same school for almost three years and yet he’s learned more about Mickey in the past five days than ever before.

“I didn’t know you had brothers.” Ian comments. It’s true, he always thought it was just Mickey and Mandy.

Mickey nods. “I got three.”

“There’s five of you?” Ian’s eyebrows shoot up.

Mickey shoots him a look. “Yeah, so?”

“Nothing, it’s just…there’s six of us, you know? Big families not that common anymore, I guess.”

Mickey just snorts. “In the South Side they are, and you fuckin’ know it. Nobody got the cash or common sense for rubbers.”

Ian snorts. “You got a point there. Can’t imagine Frank being all too bothered about safe sex.”

“Wait, you’re Frank’s kid? Those Gallaghers?” 

This just makes Ian laugh. 

“How many Gallaghers did you think lived in the South Side? Yeah, that’s us. Although technically, I’m not Frank’s kid. I’m the product of his wife’s affair with his brother.”

Mickey grins. “Sounds like the Gallaghers I know.”

“Frank’s really that notorious, huh?” Ian shakes his head incredulously, downing the rest of his beer.

“You could fuckin’ say that,” Mickey nods. “He owed my dad a shitload of money. Old man had me and my brothers try and kill him. Frank’s like a fuckin’ cockroach though; fucker can’t die.”

Ian barks out another laugh. “Tell me about it.”

“Can’t believe you’re one of those fuckin’ Gallaghers.” Mickey smirks. 

Ian has the brief thought that maybe he should be offended by that, but he just doesn’t. He knows what Mickey means. His family can be a lot to handle, and Frank doesn’t do much for their reputation.

“Your brother’s Lip, right?” Mickey asks, and Ian looks at him, surprised.

“Yeah! How do you know Lip?” 

Mickey grins, with the look on his face one of nostalgia. 

“Used to write papers for me in middle school in exchange for weed. Before I realized I could write some pretty fuckin’ good papers by myself and get to keep my good weed.”

Ian chuckles. “Yeah, asshole made his weekly cut just by that shit, didn’t even get a real job or anything.”

Mickey just shrugs. “Gotta play to your skills, man.”

Ian snorts. “Guess that’s why I got a shit job at a fuckin’ convenience store. No skills to exploit.”

Ian hops off of where he’s sitting and helps himself to another beer from Mickey’s backpack. He’s not really sure if he’s allowed, but Mickey doesn’t say anything, so he figures it’s okay.

“Where do you work?” Mickey asks, after a brief pause where Ian sits back down next to him.

“Kash & Grab, you know it?”

Mickey’s eyebrows shoot up, and he suddenly starts laughing—like really laughing, nearly spilling the remainder of his beer over himself.

“That funny somehow?” Ian asks, looking at Mickey amusedly.

“Aw man, I’m in there like all the time. Fuckin’ dipshit doesn’t do jack shit when I take stuff.”

“So you’re the reason Linda keeps reaming me and Kash for inventory, huh?” Ian gives him a look, but he’s smiling too.

“How come I never see you in there?” Mickey asks.

Ian shrugs. “Guess you just never come in during my shift.”

“Huh.” Mickey says, and finishes off his second beer.

As they talk, Ian realizes how strange it is that he and Mickey have never crossed paths before. They only live a few streets down from each other, and their families have interacted enough in the past. Some of the stories Mickey tells him about their run-ins with Frank even sound familiar to Ian, and yet he never put it together that it was Mickey and his family that all those stories were about.

The two of them are laughing about some crazy heist Mickey and his brothers pulled when Mickey was about thirteen when they’re interrupted by a loud ringing. Ian reaches for his pocket, realizing it’s his phone. The sound seems to almost sober him up—he felt as if he was almost in a different world for a bit—and as he looks at his screen to see Danny’s name, his stomach plummets.

He forgot.

He forgot that he and Danny had agreed to meet after school today to talk. He didn’t even realize how much time had passed, how he’s spent the entire day with Mickey Milkovich. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, but he realizes as he looks at the time that they’ve spent two hours in the dugouts alone.

“Shit.” He says, staring at his phone, not knowing what to do.

Mickey looks over and grins when he sees who it is. “Go on, pick it up.”

Ian looks at Mickey, unsurely, but picks up on the next ring.

“Hey babe.” He says, tentatively, and shoots dagger eyes at Mickey when he snorts into his beer.

“Where are you?” comes Danny’s sharp response. “I’ve been waiting in the parking lot for like twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.” Ian apologizes.

“Well, come now then.” Danny says. 

“I can’t.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t?” Danny demands.

“I’m not at school.”

“What? Where are you?”

Ian feels his face begin to get warm. Being questioned like this makes him nervous, and especially because he has to lie. 

“I’m at Katie’s.” he responds, and Mickey’s head snaps up to look at him. Ian ignores him. 

“I thought we were gonna talk.” Danny says.

“I know, I forgot, I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, so you said.” Danny replies in a sarcastic tone, and it’s that tone that makes Ian lose his patience. It's the fact that Danny doesn't even consider his apology, the way he doesn't consider anything Ian wants or thinks or says.

“Hey, you’re the one who should be apologizing.” He says, and he can practically feel Mickey’s gaze turn to one of surprise.

“Excuse me?” Danny’s clearly shocked as well, and for good reason: Ian hardly ever speaks out like this.

“You wanted to talk, let’s talk.” Ian continues. “What were you gonna say? Were you going to apologize for acting like a complete asshole to me for the past few days or were you just going to bat your eyes and stick your dick in my mouth to shut me up?”

Mickey begins to laugh from beside him, and Ian elbows him in the side hard, but that doesn’t stop him, all he does is lower his volume slightly.

“Ian, what the fuck is up with you?” Danny’s voice rises.

“I’m sick of you treating me like shit!” Ian says, heatedly. 

“God, you’re being dramatic. I stayed at Lila’s, big deal! You stay at Katie’s all the time!” 

“Don’t fucking turn this on me, you know that whenever the fuck you call I’m always there and you never do the same for me. You shit all over our plans for prom just because you didn’t want anyone to see us, and for what? Everyone knows you’re gay, Danny! But you still insist on keeping me your dirty little secret while Lila’s practically your fucking girlfriend. You know what? If that’s what you want, go right ahead, ‘cause I’m fucking done.”

“Ian—” Danny starts, but Ian doesn’t let him even get a word in before he hangs up. 

He’s breathing heavily, and he slowly feels the hand holding his phone go numb. He blinks several times, trying to process what just happened. It’s not going so well. His mind is blank; he can’t form coherent thoughts; his entire brain is buzzing.

Mickey lets out a low whistle. 

“That was somethin’.” He says, and Ian manages to look up at him just as he hops off his spot on the ledge to grab yet another beer from his backpack. 

“I can’t believe I did that.” Ian is finally able to say.

“About damn time, I think.” Mickey says, popping open his can.

“What?” Ian asks, still trying to digest the events that just occurred. 

“Please, he was the fuckin’ worst, hasn’t he ditched you like a million times?”

“You don’t even know him.” Ian is immediately on the defensive, and Mickey raises his eyebrows at him.

“You know he ain’t your boyfriend anymore, you don’t gotta defend him.” 

Ian takes a second to think about that.

He’s always been quick to defend Danny’s actions, even to himself, because they were dating and he thought he was meant to always be on his boyfriend’s side.

But Mickey has a point. He just broke up with Danny—whether he intended to or not was irrelevant. He didn’t have to excuse everything Danny did anymore.

“You’re right.” Ian sighs. “Give me some of that.”

He reaches out and takes the beer out of Mickey’s hand, bringing it up to his lips and gulping down the rest of it in one go.   
Mickey’s looking at him with an amused expression on his face. 

“You alright there?”

Ian considers this. Is he alright? He knows he and Danny were only together for four months, but still, he felt so strongly about him. He didn’t even think about the two of them breaking up. He feels like he’s supposed to be sad, but somehow…he’s just not. He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to tell him, whether it means he never really loved Danny after all or not, but he doesn’t really want to think about it either.

He lets out a loud belch and looks at Mickey. 

“Got any more beer?”

******

Ian’s not sure exactly what time it is, but he assumes it’s pretty late, because it’s past the point of complete darkness and the deep blue of the sky is starting to slowly turn that periwinkle blue of the early, early morning.

He’s drunk, and very aware of it—for several reasons. 

For one, he and Mickey have been at the dugouts this whole time, and despite Chicago’s April weather being what it is, Ian hasn’t gotten cold at all; his alcohol blanket has kept him quite toasty. 

For another, he cannot stop laughing. He always gets like this when he drinks a lot—everything becomes funny somehow, and he just giggles endlessly like a little kid. 

Mickey’s seemed to catch on to this, and shoots him a surprised but pleased look every time he tells a shit joke and Ian reacts like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard.

One thing that’s strange though is that Ian hasn’t felt the desire to leave the baseball field. Normally when he’s drunk, he gets extremely energized; he wants to do anything and everything. 

Once, Lip got him trashed and took him to the track of the local public school and Ian ended up running two full miles before finally falling over and puking on the red dirt. Whenever they drink together, Katie always accuses Ian of abandoning her and running off constantly. 

But tonight, he feels content to just sit there at the dugouts, downing beer after beer, talking about anything and everything with Mickey, only really getting up to piss—on first base of course, which makes Mickey laugh the first time Ian does it.

“Maybe you should slow down, tough guy.” Mickey says with a grin in his voice, as Ian reaches to get another beer and nearly falls over in the process.

“Is that an order?” Ian asks, slurring slightly.

“An order?” Mickey looks confused, and Ian nods, managing to get the beer after all and sitting back up.

“Yeah! ’Cause I gotta do whatever you want.” Ian stretches out each word like he’s tasting the syllables in his mouth.

“Whatever I want, huh?” Mickey asks, but it seems like he’s asking himself more than Ian, his smile somewhat fading.

“Mhm-hmm.” Ian confirms, taking a big gulp of his beer, and then pausing to look at Mickey. 

“Wait. I forgot. What did you want me to do again?” 

It takes Mickey a second to even understand what Ian just said, the alcohol messing up his speech so badly. Once he does, he meets Ian’s eyes.

Ian is thrown—and almost a little bit sobered up—by the piercing blue of Mickey’s eyes.

“Kiss me.” Mickey says, in what's barely a whisper, and Ian is sure he misheard.

“What?”

Mickey’s gaze doesn’t falter.

“Whatever I want, right?” He says, through slightly gritted teeth, as if he’s having difficulty forcing the words. “I want you to kiss me.”

Ian blinks. His brain is trying to load and the alcohol is severely stunting his ability to process thoughts. 

His body, however, seems to still know what it’s doing, as he feels himself lean over, his hands supporting him on the cold ground as he hovers over Mickey, and his head ducking down as he envelopes Mickey’s lips in his own. 

For a moment, as his cold lips meet Mickey’s and he feels the warmth of the contact start to spread, his body seems to forget how to breathe. Maybe it’s the buzz of the alcohol in his system, or maybe it’s the way his entire body has become adjusted to the almost freezing temperature outside, but Mickey’s mouth on his makes him feel like he’s suddenly on fire.

He breaks apart to gasp, as his lungs have realized they were not receiving oxygen, but within a millisecond he’s kissing Mickey again, his bottom lip gently pressed between Mickey’s two. When he feels Mickey’s tongue tentatively swipe across his lip, he unwillingly lets out a quiet moan. It’s almost inaudible as he’s pressed so close to Mickey, but it’s still enough to pull Mickey out of whatever temporary trance Ian’s kiss had put him in. 

He jerks away, and his eyes grow wide as he stares at Ian’s face, mere inches away from his. 

“Shit.” He breathes out.

Ian’s not recovered enough to be able to say anything back, but Mickey doesn’t give him a chance to anyway. Before Ian can even blink, Mickey has scrambled to his feet.

“I gotta go.” He says, grabbing his backpack.

“Wait!” Ian finally manages to sputter out, but he’s too late—Mickey’s already running across the baseball field, away from him.


	7. You're Southside, Gallagher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re Southside, Gallagher.”
> 
> Ian looks up, but he doesn’t have to.
> 
> It is the unmistakable voice of Mickey Milkovich. Even though they've barely spent much time together, Ian could recognize it from a mile away. And as Ian meets his blue eyes, he can feel the piercing in his gut like a knife. He doesn't know why Mickey decided to get involved in his and Danny's conversation, but for some reason, he finds himself grateful for it. Until he begins to process what Mickey said.
> 
> "What?"
> 
> “Get out of here, Milkovich.” Danny says, through gritted teeth. So much for them not having any beef.
> 
> “Don’t think I will, Danny-boy.” Mickey smirks and crosses his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm so sorry, I'm a horrible person. I've been mourning since the end of season 7 tbh, but don't get me started on that because I'll go off.  
> Here's chapter seven instead :)

Ian doesn’t remember getting back to the Gallagher house last night, but he wakes up in his own bed nonetheless. Granted, it’s with a pounding headache, but at least he’s in familiar surroundings.

He groans as he opens his eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the light.

“Morning, sunshine.” Lip’s voice registers in Ian’s brain, and he groans again, which causes Lip to laugh.

“What time is it?” Ian mumbles, forcing himself to sit up and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“6:42. You got home about an hour and a half ago.” Lip responds, and Ian sees he’s sitting on the desk chair, facing him.

“Fuck.”

“Had a wild Monday night?” Lip asks, his eyebrows raised.

“Looks like it.” Ian grunts, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and trying to will himself to get up.

“Since when do you party on school nights?”

“I wouldn’t really call it a party.” Ian evades, finally getting to his feet and beginning to rummage in his drawers for something clean to wear to school.

“You came home at 5 a.m. fuckin’ trashed, man. I was surprised you even made it home.”

“Muscle memory.” Ian responds, yanking on a t-shirt.

“You okay?” Lip asks.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, it’s just not like you.”

“I’m fine, Lip, chill.” Ian rolls his eyes and grabs his jeans from the floor.

He figures they’re still fine to wear today. “Alright, man, whatever you say.”

Lip says, standing up. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Thanks.” Ian sighs, walking over to the bathroom.

He looks at himself in the mirror and isn’t surprised to see that he looks like death; he feels like it too.

He splashes handfuls of cold water on his face, trying to piece together what he can of last night.

The first thing that comes back to him is his phone call with Danny. He broke up with Danny last night. Damn. He’s not exactly sure how he feels about that. Oddly, he doesn’t feel a rush or guilt or regret. At least they weren’t out to anybody, so there won’t be any drama about it at school.

 _Of course the breakup is the one plus side to them being a secret,_ Ian thinks bitterly.

But as he walks into the school building upon his arrival, he still feels an uncomfortable amount of eyes focused on him. He tries to shrug it off, he’s probably just being paranoid.

He gets his books from his locker and begins heading to class, and bumps into Katie on the way, as her locker is only a few feet down the hall from his.

“Hey you! Where were you yesterday?” she greets him with a brief, one-armed hug.

“Oh, I had to do that whole servant bullshit with…Mickey.” He pauses before saying Mickey’s name, as with it the events of last night come rushing back to him at the speed of a freight train.

Ian’s brain spins as he recalls his mouth on Mickey’s, the heat of his tongue on Ian’s cold, dry lips. Shit. Did that really happen? Did he make it up?

“Oh damn, how was it?” Katie asks and when Ian doesn’t respond, too caught up in his thoughts about last night, she looks at him with a concerned expression. “You okay?” she asks, and Ian snaps back to the present moment.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I just really wanna get to class to make sure I didn’t miss anything major yesterday.”

“Yeah, of course, no worries.” Katie says, but she’s still looking at him with that furrowed brow. Ian really doesn’t have time to worry about what Katie thinks is wrong with him though; he’s got bigger things on his mind.

He needs to find Mickey.

*

By the time lunch period swings around, Ian hasn’t seen Mickey anywhere. Which is odd, because he’s looked at his locker, behind the gym, and in the empty computer lab in the basement—all of Mickey Milkovich’s known hangouts.

He _needs_ to talk to Mickey. He’s not quite sure what he’s going to say, or even what he wants to say, but he knows they need to have a conversation.

Which is why, when he arrives at lunch, instead of getting in line, he scans the cafeteria until he finds what he’s looking for—a shock of black hair hunched over at an otherwise empty table.

He makes a beeline towards the table and pulls out a chair to sit across from her.

Mandy Milkovich lifts her head and looks her intruder up and down.

“Gallagher.” She says, matter-of-factly.

“You know who I am?” Ian asks, taken by surprise.

Mandy smirks at this, picks up an apple from her tray, and takes a loud bite. Ian waits, impatiently, as she chews, for her answer.

“Took my brother to prom.” She states.

“Oh.” Ian responds, feeling stupid. Of course. The whole school knows that. No wonder he’s been feeling like he’s being stared at.

“So…what do you want?” Mandy asks, somewhat irritably.

“I need to talk to him.” Ian says. “Is he at school today?”

“What do you need to talk to him about?” Mandy eyes him, suspiciously.

Damn. Ian didn’t think she’d really care about that.

“It’s...” Ian struggles to come up with an answer. “It’s personal.”

Mandy grins, something Ian did not suspect. “Kid, if you’ve got yourself a little crush on my brother, I guarantee it is not going to end well for you.”

“No, that’s not it.” Ian immediately jumps in. “It’s just—”

“Ian.” A voice interrupts him.

He and Mandy both look up to see who’s come over to join them. Ian feels his stomach sink like a stone.

“Danny-boy.” Mandy says with a smirk, and Ian’s secretly glad for it, because he’s not sure he’s capable of speech at the moment. “If it isn’t my favorite gay ex-boyfriend.”

“You got a lot of those, Mandy?” Danny says to her, and Ian’s shocked to hear more than a little animosity in his voice.

He doesn’t know much about their relationship, since Danny only told him about it at prom, but he didn’t imagine any bitterness remained. Clearly he was wrong.

Mandy just chuckles in response. “Ever the sweet talker, aren’t you?” the smile slips easily off her face as she then asks him seriously, “What do you want, Daniel?”

“Nothing from you, don’t worry.” He says, still with that note of aggression in his voice. He then turns back to Ian, and, in a much gentler tone, says, “Can I get a word with you?”

Ian sighs, and looks from Danny to Mandy.

“Is he here?” he asks Mandy quietly, in a last ditch effort.

She looks at his face, clearly sees something desperate there, and has mercy on him. “I saw him by the dumpsters smoking a joint after third period; don’t know if he’s still there.”

“Thank you.” Ian says, genuinely, and then stands up and looks at Danny. “You get five minutes.”

Danny looks at him with a surprised expression, and Ian knows why. He’s never been this direct before, never stood up for himself like this before.

He’s a little surprised himself.

“Right, okay, where should we go?” he asks, following as Ian begins walking away from Mandy’s table.

At this question, Ian stops in his tracks and looks at him.

“Go?”

“To talk.” Danny says, hesitantly.

Ian pulls out a chair at an empty table and sits down.

“Right here.” He says.

Danny looks around, at the full cafeteria surrounding them.

“You don’t wanna go somewhere…more private?”

“You mean somewhere where no one can see you talking to me?” Ian asks, his voice at a much higher volume than Danny’s. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

Danny looks at him, at his stony expression, and realizes, for the first time, he's not going to win this argument.

With a sigh, he sits down in the seat across from Ian.

“Don’t say that.” He says.

“Say what?”

“That we’re not dating.” Danny says in a low voice.

Ian raises his eyebrows.

“Why not? We’re not. Not anymore.”

“It was just a stupid fight, okay? We both said stuff we didn’t mean.”

“Oh really? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I meant it when I broke up with you.” Ian has no idea where he is getting this confidence from. He’s always been putty in Danny’s hands. Just one look into his eyes and Ian would cave to whatever he wanted. But not anymore. He thinks he hit his breaking point at prom.

He felt lied to and ridiculed and dismissed and had a moment of realization where it finally dawned on him that Danny wasn’t treating him the way he should have.

“Ian, please.” Danny pleads, and Ian sees his hands twitch, and can tell Danny is stopping himself from reaching out to him.

“Please what?” Ian asks, frustrated.

The fact that Danny is still fighting to be together when he can’t even reach out to hold his hand makes no sense to Ian.

“Why are we even having this conversation if you don’t actually want to be with me? It’s bullshit, Danny.”

“I do want to be with you, Ian.” Danny argues, but his voice is still quiet and Ian just laughs.

“No, you don’t, Danny. I wasn’t your boyfriend. Lila’s your girlfriend, she’s the one you go on dates with and go to prom with and surprise with flowers at her locker. I’m the guy you call at midnight when you’re horny to sneak in through your window and give you a blowjob. Fuck that.” Ian can feel his voice rising with his anger.

Danny’s eyes widen and he looks from left to right, trying to see if anyone can hear them or is listening in.

Ian lets out a bitter laugh.

“Look, even now you’re paranoid! What would it have done if people knew, Danny? Tell me. Everyone already knows you’re gay! Why were you always so scared of people finding out about you and me?”

“Because I’m me!” Danny finally bursts out. “I’m a Jones, we have a reputation in this school, in this city.”

Ian eyes him. “So?”

“So nobody expects me to be with…”

Ian feels his heart rate rising.

“With what? A boy?” he asks, confused.

“No, it’s not…it’s just…you’re…” Danny avoids meeting Ian’s eyes.

“I’m _what_ , Danny?” Ian demands.

“You’re Southside, Gallagher.”

Ian looks up, but he doesn’t have to.

It is the unmistakable voice of Mickey Milkovich. Even though they've barely spent much time together, Ian could recognize it from a mile away. And as Ian meets his blue eyes, he can feel the piercing in his gut like a knife. He doesn't know why Mickey decided to get involved in his and Danny's conversation, but for some reason, he finds himself grateful for it. Until he begins to process what Mickey said.

"What?"

“Get out of here, Milkovich.” Danny says, through gritted teeth. So much for them not having any beef.

“Don’t think I will, Danny-boy.” Mickey smirks and crosses his arms. “Am I wrong?”

Ian stares at Danny, who again is avoiding making eye contact.

“You knew? You knew I was Southside?”

Finally, Danny looks up. “Of course I knew.”

“For how long?” Ian asks, disbelievingly, and when Danny doesn’t answer, he raises his voice and repeats, “how long?”

“Three months now.” Danny mutters sheepishly.

Ian stares at him, incredulously.

“You knew for three months and didn’t bring it up once?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

At this Mickey barks out a laugh, and Danny glares at him.

“Embarrass me.” Ian repeats, more to himself than to Danny. “More like embarrass yourself. So it’s true then. That’s why you didn’t want people to know about us. Because you didn’t want to be associated with me in case other people found out I was ghetto trash.”

“No, Ian, it’s not like—”

Ian doesn’t let him finish.

“Who else knows?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Danny, we both know you can’t keep your mouth shut about anything unless it involves you. Who have you told?”

“No one!” Danny says, defensively, but his face looks undeniably guilty.

“Who?” Ian almost yells, and there’s definitely people looking over at this point.

“Just Lila! No one else, I swear.”

There is a second of silence as it all sinks in in Ian’s brain. And he laughs. A sharp, short, bitter laugh.

“Lila. Of course. Well, don’t worry, _Danny-boy_ , you won’t have to worry about your pristine reputation being ruined by some Southside hoodrat, because we are done. And I mean done. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t speak to me, I don’t want to hear from you anymore. You’re a piece of shit.”

“Ian, I—”

“Fuck. Off.” Ian says, forcefully, and gets up from his chair.

He looks at Mickey, and even he looks surprised at the serious expression on Ian’s face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Mickey nods and gestures for Ian to follow him. Ian does, without a second glance back at his ex-boyfriend.


	8. Kiss Me Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian takes a deep, shaky breath.
> 
> “I kissed him,” he exhales.
> 
> Katie just looks confused.
> 
> “Danny?”
> 
> “No. Mickey.” Ian says, followed by a loud gasp from Katie.
> 
> “No shit.” She breathes, her eyes huge. “When?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8! It's short, I know, but bear with me <3

“Real nice guy, that ex of yours.” Mickey says once they’re outside, the first to speak after walking away from Danny in the cafeteria.

“Shut the fuck up.” Ian responds. He’s fuming and really not in the mood for the sarcasm. Mickey just chuckles.

“Ey, let it go, man. Danny-boy’s a pussy, always was. Same issue he had with my sister.”

“How’d you know that’s what it was?” Ian asks.

“What else could it be?”

“Fuck.” Ian closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I can’t fucking believe I was with him for so long.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes.” Mickey says, with a playful tone in his voice. It’s this shift in tone that makes Ian blink open his eyes and look at him, and remember why he wanted to talk to Mickey in the first place.

“Last night.” He says, and Mickey’s smirk fades almost instantly from his face.

“What about it?” Mickey says, his voice now harder.

“At the dugouts…we were drinking…” Ian trails off, wanting Mickey to understand the implication and what he’s talking about.

“So?” Mickey crosses his arms, and Ian can’t help but notice he’s taken a very defensive stance.

“So…we kissed.” He says, feeling how sweaty his palms are and half-heartedly trying to wipe them on his jeans without being too obvious about it.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about; you were wasted as fuck.” Mickey says immediately.

Ian shakes his head. “I remember.”

“You remember wrong.” Mickey spits back loudly.

“It’s not a big deal, Mickey, I was just—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey cuts him off. “I mean it.”

“Mickey, it’s okay, I only—” Ian is interrupted again, this time by Mickey slamming him up against the dumpster, his forearm pressing against Ian’s throat.

“You open your mouth again and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.” He threatens, and Ian just stares at him. His heart is pounding in shock, but somehow he’s not scared.

“You stay the fuck away from me.” Mickey says, before releasing him and turning to walk away.

Ian says nothing. 

 

* * *

 

“Dude, everyone’s talking about some kind of fight between you and Danny in the cafeteria today. What happened?” Katie asks, as soon as Ian walks through her front door.

He groans. “Long story.”

“Tell me!” Katie hops up her stairs and Ian trudges along beside her until they reach her room.

“Well, I broke up with him.” He says, settling into a beanbag chair.

“Shit, no way!” Katie says, disbelievingly.

Ian just nods.

“And he was trying to get me back or whatever, and then I found out why he’s really been wanting to keep our relationship a secret this whole time, and god, he’s just such an asshole, I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“What was the reason?” Katie asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“He knows I’m Southside. He’s known for months now. He didn’t want people knowing about us in case they also found out I’m from the ghetto.”

“What the fuck?” Katie exclaims. “Wow, what a piece of shit.”

Ian nods, feeling glad that he came. Being around Katie always makes him feel better, no matter what’s going on.

“How’d you find out? He admit it?”

Ian snorts. “Like the coward would ever admit it. No…Mickey told me.”

“Mickey?” Katie asks, sounding surprised. “Like Mickey Milkovich?”

“Is there any other one?” Ian says in a dull voice.

“Shit, how’d he know?”

“He’s Southside, too.” Ian tells her.

“No shit.” Katie’s jaw is practically on the floor. “Dude, this is some major drama.”  
Ian chuckles a bit at this.

“You don’t even know the half of it.” He says, thinking about the incident by the dumpsters just a few hours ago.

“What do you mean?” she demands. “What are you not telling me?”

Ian takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I kissed him,” he exhales.

Katie just looks confused.

“Danny?”

“No. Mickey.” Ian says, followed by a loud gasp from Katie.

“No _shit._ ” She breathes, her eyes huge. “When?”

“Last night, after he had me do all his chores.” Ian admits. “We were pretty trashed though.”

“Fuck, man, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now!” Ian says, with a little chuckle. Katie always has to be the first to know.

“What did he do?”

Ian shakes his head. “It’s all a little fuzzy. I think…I think he kissed me back?” he phrases it like a question, not quite sure himself. “But I also remember him pushing me away. I tried to bring it up to him today, but he basically threatened to kill me if I said another word about it.”

“Shit, Ian.” She pauses and then looks up at him, her eyes questioning. “Do you like him?”  
“What? No! What?” Ian is so thrown by the question he doesn’t even know what to respond with. “It wasn’t like that. We were just drunk and…I don’t know…just drunk.”

Katie raises her eyebrows at him. “I don’t know, I’ve gotten drunk with you plenty of times and you’ve never kissed _me._ ”

Ian shoots her a cheeky smirk. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

Katie shoves him. “Oh, grow up, you know what I mean. I’m just saying, like, maybe there’s something there?”

Ian just rolls his eyes. “Something there with Mickey Milkovich? Come on, listen to yourself. Forget about it, Katie, it was just a one-off. Besides, prom is over, so now we can go back to how it was before and Mickey Milkovich can remain the enigma he always was.”

The problem with that logic, of course, is that Mickey is no longer that much of an enigma to Ian. Sure, they only really spent a day and a half together, but that doesn’t change the fact that now, Mickey is a _person_ to him—a real person, who’s shitty at video games and who cusses even more than Katie and who was pushed around by his older brothers as a kid and whose lips are so incredibly soft and warm when pressed against Ian’s and…fuck.

He knows he’s probably making it up—he was out-of-his-mind drunk after all—but something about that kiss _stuck_ with him. He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s stuck replaying the bits he can remember over and over in his head.

There’s really no point to it, since he’s quite sure he and Mickey are never going to speak another word to each other.

By the time he leaves Katie’s house at night, he’s still thinking about Mickey.

And over twenty minutes later, when he’s finally back in the Southside and heading down the street towards the Gallagher house, he’s just pondering over what a shame it is that he went and fucked it up with Mickey—because he was just starting to stupidly think that they could actually be friends, that someone understood what it was like being at a preppy school like Wilson Magnet while coming from the Southside—when lo and behold, who is sitting on the stairs leading up to his house but Mickey Milkovich himself.

Ian stares in surprise. It was only a few hours ago that Ian was threatened to stay away from Mickey and now here he is, at Ian’s doorstep.

“Gallagher!” Mickey immediately stands when he sees Ian, and in an instant, Ian can see that he’s trashed. His speech is slurring and he sways a little when he stands as he tries to maintain his balance.

“What are you doing here, Mickey?” Ian asks, walking towards the stairs that Mickey is now attempting to descend.

  
“Needed to—hic—ask you something.” Mickey hiccups and stumbles slightly towards Ian, causing Ian to instinctively hold his hands out to catch Mickey’s arms.

“And you had to get drunk to do it?” Ian asks, his eyebrows raised as he steadies Mickey.

“Fuck you, ‘m not drunk!” Mickey mumbles, as aggressively as one could possibly be in a mumble.

“What did you need to ask me?” Ian continues, patiently. He’s not quite sure what Mickey’s deal is, why he’s here late at night drunk off his ass when he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want Ian anywhere near him.

“You’re annoying.” Mickey says, in a sort of whine, waving his index finger around, clearly trying to point it at Ian’s face.

Ian’s honestly kind of amused at this point.

“Is that so?” he humors Mickey; after all, he’s sober and watching Mickey drunkenly fidget around is rather entertaining.

Mickey nods emphatically.

“Mmm-hmm.” He stretches out the sounds, smacking his lips as he hums them out. “Stupid ginger with his stupid fuckin’ freckles.”

Ian feels his pulse pick up slightly.

It seems like maybe Mickey didn’t really want Ian to stay away after all…maybe it was the opposite?

“What did you want to ask me?” Ian repeats, firmly, determined to get an answer this time. Mickey sees the serious expression on his face, and his own seems to sober up slightly as well.

“I didn’t—I mean, it’s not—fuck.” He stumbles over his words, but Ian knows he’s not so drunk he’s unable to string a coherent sentence together.

“What is it?” he pushes, taking a step forward towards Mickey. Mickey retreats backwards instinctively, but trips and begins to fall. In a flash, Ian’s caught him by his wrists and as Mickey regains his balance, his eyes lock on Ian’s hands wrapped around his pale wrists. He stares for a second, and then looks up to Ian’s eyes, and when he speaks, it’s completely clear.

“Kiss me again.”


	9. What's Your Fucking Problem?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He rolls off of Mickey onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.   
> Holy fucking shit.  
> “Holy shit.” Mickey says, turning over and glancing at Ian.  
> Ian meets his eyes.  
> “My thoughts exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI I'M THE WORST I KNOW. I can't even explain how busy I am and also how much of a block I've had but I hope this chapter somewhat makes up for it and please don't hate me.

Mickey’s not at school on Tuesday.

Or Wednesday.

Or Thursday or Friday.

Ian’s not sure what to think. They’ve kissed twice now; clearly Mickey’s having some unresolved issues concerning his sexuality. He doesn’t know what to make of it though, because Mickey’s been drunk both times.

And the second time, he didn’t run. In fact, he did quite the opposite; he tried to take it further. And dare Ian admit it to himself, he really wanted him to. But Mickey was trashed and Ian wasn’t and it wasn’t right. So instead, Ian offered to walk him home and Mickey snorted and flipped him off and walked off into the night.

And now it’s Friday, and Mickey’s been missing from school almost all week, and Ian is confused. Confused about what Mickey wants, sure, but also confused about what he wants. Does he like Mickey in that way? Does he want to be with him? Is he just rebounding from Danny?

He’s not sure. All he knows is that kissing Mickey is incredible, even if he’s drunk and sloppy and uses too much teeth. It stirs something inside of him, something primal, something deep in the bottom of his stomach. He feels like there’s a furnace inside of him, that Mickey just alights when their lips press together.

He can’t explain it and he doesn’t understand it and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

Luckily, he’s saved from having to come up with a solution by himself when he’s cornered at his locker after school by none other than Mandy Milkovich.

“You are involved in this.” She says, shoving her index finger in his face in an accusatory manner.

“Hi, Mandy.” Ian says, flattening against his locker in an attempt to put as much distance as he can between his eyes and Mandy’s frighteningly sharp fingernail.

“What’s wrong with my brother?” she asks, ignoring his greeting.

“How should I know?” he responds, innocently, but she’s clearly not buying it.

“One day, you come up asking where my brother is and the next he’s getting involved in your lame ass high school break up and now he’s locking himself in his room and blasting shitty music. I swear, if I have to hear one more of his shrieking post-hardcore songs, I’m going to shoot myself and then you.”

Ian stares at her. He’s momentarily thrown by how much she and her brother look alike, but dials himself back into the situation at hand.

“I don’t have an answer for you, Mandy.” He says. “I’m just as confused by him as you are.”

“Well, you are coming over tonight and getting him the fuck out of his room before I lose my goddamn mind, okay?” She narrows her eyes at him, threateningly, and Ian nods quickly, knowing he has no choice but to agree with her.

“Good.” She says, and spins on her heel to walk away, whipping him in the face with her hair as she does so.

“Fuck.” He mumbles to himself once she’s gone. Ian tends to ignore problems until they go away, something he learned from Lip, but it seems like this situation with Mickey is not going away anytime soon, which means he’s going to have to actually deal with it—something he knows he is incredibly unskilled at.

Time to break out the big guns. 

 ****

“Fiona?” he says, tentatively, as he takes the last step down into the living room. He’s been waiting all evening to come and talk to her, but he knows that this is when he’ll get her full attention—once everyone’s asleep and she’s had enough time to get herself a beer and get comfortable on the couch.

She turns her head and smiles warmly when she sees who it is.

“Hey, Ian.”

Ian joins her on the couch, somewhat folded into himself.

“What’s bugging you?” she asks, and he raises her eyebrows at her, as if to ask how did you know something was bugging me? She just shrugs in response, which Ian knows means, it’s my job.

“There’s this guy.” He starts, looking down and wringing his hands nervously.

“The infamous Danny we’re always hearing about?” she asks, smilingly.

Ian just shakes his head, snorting a bit.

“No. Fuck Danny.”

Fiona just nods, smiling a bit. “Okay, fuck Danny. Who is it then?”

“Just this guy.” Ian evades. No need to get Mickey’s name involved an all, especially since he now knows the Gallaghers and the Milkoviches have somewhat of a messy history. “But I can’t really figure him out.”

“You mean you don’t know if he’s gay?” Fiona questions, trying to put together the situation through Ian’s vague descriptions.

“Well, yeah, that too. But also like…we’ve kissed. Twice. But he’s been drunk both times so I don’t know if it counts and now he’s not coming to school anymore and his sister says he’s just hiding in his room, but when I tried to talk to him about it, he threa—I mean, he just refused to talk about it.” Ian backtracks, as Fiona doesn’t know that the guy Ian’s talking about is from the Southside and might not take too well to a guy from his high school threatening to kill him.

“Hmm.” Fiona says, ruffling up his hair warmly. “That’s a tough one, kid. Do you like him?”

Ah. There it is. That question again, the one Katie asked that he so quickly dismissed. The one he’s been asking himself over and over for the past week.

“I don’t know. I think he’s cool. But he’s so secretive, it’s like impossible to get to know him as a person.”

“Okay.” Fiona says slowly, digesting the information. “What about sexually?”

“Fiona!” Ian exclaims, feeling his pale face flood with color.

“What?” Fiona asks innocently. “You’re the one asking for advice. So spill!”

“I don’t know.” Ian says, but he knows he’s partly lying. “I mean, kissing him is great. Like really great.”

“Okay, so confront him about it.”

“But I—”

“Yeah, I know you already tried, but try again.” Fiona interrupts him. “If it’s bugging you this much and you can’t just let it go, then clearly you want to pursue something with this guy, so go for it. Maybe he’s just shy.”

Ian snorts, because Mickey Milkovich is a lot of things, but shy is not one of them. But he has to admit, Fiona has a point. Of course, she doesn’t know that Ian is risking losing his tongue by talking to Mickey again, but she still could be right.

He sighs. “Okay, I guess you’re right. I promised his sister I’d come try and get him out of his room tonight anyway.”

“Woah, tonight?” Fiona’s eyebrows shoot up, and Ian knows her motherly hormones have immediately kicked in.

“It’s a Friday.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Okay,” she relents. “But no sleepover.”

Ian shakes his head, incredulously.

As if Mickey Milkovich would ever invite him to a fucking sleepover.

**** 

“Fucking finally.”

Ian is greeted by Mandy swinging the door open and grabbing him by the wrist to yank him inside.

“You didn’t tell me when to be here.” Ian says in protest, but he’s quelled by a terrifying glare Mandy shoots his way.

“Who the fuck was that?” comes a loud voice Ian doesn’t recognize from the kitchen.

“No one, Dad, it’s for me!” Mandy yells back and shoves Ian towards the hallway that he knows leads to Mickey’s room.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say to him. We’re not exactly friends.” Ian tries to reason with her.

“I don’t give a shit what you are, even Mickey’s grades aren’t enough to keep him in that goddamn school if he just stops showing up altogether and half the reason they even let me in is because of him, so I don’t care what you have to do to get him out of that room, you’re gonna do it.”

Ian figures there’s no point in arguing further, so he approaches the door with the threatening cardboard sign over it, opens it, and walks in.

“Goddamnit Mandy, I told you I didn’t want—”

“It’s not Mandy.” Ian cuts in and Mickey’s eyes shoot up. He’s lying on his bed, playing mindlessly with a butterfly knife in his hand. Judging by the smell of the room, he hasn’t showered in a few days. Ian is kind of bothered by this, since he spent hours on Monday cleaning it.

“The fuck you want, Gallagher?” Mickey growls, snapping his knife shut but not releasing it.

“I don’t want anything.” Ian says. “Your sister forced me to come over.”

“And you couldn’t just say no?”

Ian raises his eyebrows at him disbelievingly. “I’m sorry, have you _met_ your sister?”

This causes Mickey to let out a chuckle, which greatly eases Ian’s nerves.

“Can I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the beanbag across from Mickey’s bed.

“Free country.” Mickey says, leaning back onto his bed and beginning to play with his knife again. Ian takes this as a good sign.

“So how come you haven’t been at school this week?” Ian asks, settling himself into the beanbag.

“School sucks.” Mickey responds simply. He is so impossibly _frustrating_ to talk to.

Ian takes a deep breath. This is going to require a lot of patience.

“Yeah, no shit. Aren’t you worried about your grades slipping?”

“My grades don’t slip.”

“Yeah, but they _could_ if you quit coming to school, dumbass.” Ian retorts and Mickey’s eyes snap back to him, taking Ian aback with how _bright_ they are.

“What’s your fucking problem, Red? You suddenly give a shit about my GPA?”

“What’s _my_ problem? What the fuck is yours? I don’t give a shit about your GPA, but I think it’s pretty fucking stupid of you to risk getting kicked out of a good school just because…fuck, I don’t even know why! Because you’re doubting your sexuality or whatever the fuck—”

It happens in less than a second. Ian is ranting and then suddenly, without a warning, Mickey’s flown off the bed and has Ian up against a wall with a hand on his throat.

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Mickey says through gritted teeth.

Ian stares at him, his heart beating at a million miles per minute. Mickey’s breath is coming out in angry pants and Ian feels the heat of it against his face, just inches from Mickey’s. He doesn’t know what makes him do it—he doesn’t even think before he does—but Ian leans forward and presses his lips against Mickey’s.

He’s expecting a punch, or for Mickey’s hand to tighten around his neck, but it does the opposite.

Mickey’s grip relaxes and his lips gently open to let Ian in. Ian takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue against Mickey’s bottom lip and then his tongue and he feels as Mickey’s hand moves up from his neck to his hair, feels his fingers tug at the orange strands, and shit, he didn’t mean for this to happen, but _god_ , it feels good.

His hands slip around Mickey’s waist and grip at his t-shirt, wanting desperately to pull it off. Mickey bites down on his bottom lip and he fights the urge to moan, instead slipping his hands underneath Mickey’s shirt and feeling the soft skin of his back, his stomach, his chest.

He’s kissing Mickey like they have seconds to live, like every shitty fuck in his life has led him to this, and _fuck_ , he needs to be inside Mickey like now.

He pulls his lips away from Mickey’s enough to murmur “off” as he pulls at his shirt. Mickey seems to get the message and lifts his arms for Ian to take his shirt off and then immediately starts attacking the buttons on Ian’s.

Ian can’t explain it: they’re moving so fast, pulling and pushing and grabbing, and it’s hot skin against hot skin, wet mouth against wet mouth, but somehow it also feels like it’s in slow motion and he can see every small movement—the devilish grin on Mickey’s face when Ian pushes him onto the bed, the way his eyes close and he bites down on his lip when Ian unzips his pants and yanks them off in a practiced move, the way Mickey kisses his neck, with nothing but tongue and lips at first and then a sudden press of teeth that makes Ian gasp, the stifled moan that Mickey swallows in his throat when Ian licks up the underside of his leaking cock.

They touch and tangle, but it’s Mickey who finally makes the move.

“Fuck, Gallagher, quit playing, just get on me already.” He grunts after agonizing minutes of Ian tonguing at his dick.

Ian grins, more than willing to oblige. He shoves at Mickey’s side, turning him over, and plants soft, sloppy kisses down the pale skin over his spine. He reaches around Mickey and begins lazily stroking him.

“Lube?” he asks.

Mickey, unable to speak anymore, shakes his head vigorously.

“Spit ride?”

Mickey nods, clearly furious that Ian is taking his sweet time.

Ian chuckles at Mickey’s impatience, but spits into his hand and presses his fingers over Mickey’s puckered hole. He hasn’t done a spit ride in a while and he’s not quite as confident as he normally is.

“Fuck.” Mickey hisses from underneath him and Ian grins to himself. Just the boost he needed. He waits until Mickey lets out a shaky breath and then pushes a finger inside.

The sharp gasp and the faintest sound of a whimper lets Ian know he’s doing well. He drops a few more kisses on Mickey’s lower back as he explores inside of him, bites a little at his hip as a warning when he presses another finger inside of him and begins scissoring him open.

The feel of Mickey’s warm body underneath him, the sound of his panting breath, the way he pushes back desperately against Ian’s fingers—it’s enough to make him go wild.

“Fuck.” Mickey says again, but this time it comes out as a strangled moan. “Get the fuck inside me already.”

Ian doesn’t have to be told twice and immediately lines up behind Mickey. Danny always took _forever_ to prep, he was a goddamn princess, wanting this and wanting that and Ian ended up doing all the work.

Mickey releases a huff of protest when Ian pulls his fingers out, but within second, Ian’s hands grasp firmly onto Mickey’s hips and he slams himself inside him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Ian manages in a breath. Mickey is _so fucking tight_ , Ian can feel him all around him, and it’s so fucking hot it’s like he’s on fire, he could stay like this forever, he could fucking die like this.

“Gallagher!” Mickey lets out in an annoyed groan, snapping Ian’s attention back to planet earth.

“Huh?”

“Fucking move!” Mickey orders and Ian immediately feels like a dumbass.

“Oh.” He says, and tightens his grip on Mickey’s hips. What is _up_ with him? If there’s one thing he knows he’s good at, it’s sex.

 _Come on, Ian, focus._ He tells himself firmly, but _fuck,_ it’s hard to focus on what he’s learned are the right moves because _god,_ it’s never felt this fucking good.

So instead he moves with instinct, tightly holding onto Mickey’s sides and beginning to thrust back and forth. Mickey buries his head in a pillow, but the muffled moans still go straight to Ian’s dick and he picks up his pace, going harder and faster, digging his nails into Mickey’s white skin.

He feels his brain go completely blank, no space for anything but _this,_ this wet, hot feeling of _Mickey,_ squirming underneath him.

What finally brings him back is when Mickey slides his hand down to start jerking at his own cock, that Ian has left neglected in his blissed-out moment of reverie.

Cursing himself for such a rookie move, Ian slaps his hand away and Mickey whimpers, actually _whimpers,_ and Ian almost comes then and there.

He manages to hold back, keeping a slower but still steady rhythm of pounding into Mickey, as he reaches around and grabs Mickey’s dick.

Mickey lets out a sound like a dying animal and Ian begins pumping to match his rhythm, a rhythm he picks up when he feels the sharp intake of breath from the boy underneath him.

He slams into Mickey like his life depends on it and fuck fuck fuck he feels like he’s fucking flying shit why isn’t Mickey coming he’s going to come he never comes first but fuck fuck fuck this feels so fucking good and—

“Fuck.” Mickey grunts and Ian feels his come spill through his fingers and _fuck_ , it shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but within a second, Ian’s coming too, biting down on Mickey’s shoulder and pressing bruises into his hips and then they collapse, Ian on top of Mickey, both heaving and sweating.

He rolls off of Mickey onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

Holy fucking shit.

“Holy shit.” Mickey says, turning over and glancing at Ian.

Ian meets his eyes.

“My thoughts exactly.”


	10. Real Champ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell is happening?” Ian mumbles under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else, but Mickey still chuckles next to him.
> 
> Ian looks at him, pleased at that reaction.
> 
> “Thought you’d be avoiding me,” he chances, keeping his voice low just in case.
> 
> Mickey looks at him with an unreadable expression and Ian feels himself squirming under the gaze of those piercing blue eyes.
> 
> “It look like I’m avoiding you, Gallagher?” he says, simply.
> 
> It’s not much, but Ian will take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the long wait, i know i'm the worsttttt

Ian’s not sure how he feels about Mickey. That’s the truth.

It’s too early after Danny and it’s too different and too sudden and Ian has not even begun to wrap his head around whatever the hell it is that’s going on between him and Mickey.

Here’s what he does know: having sex with Mickey was fucking mind-blowing and _god_ , he wants to do it again.

He’s not really sure how to go about proposing that to Mickey though. He knows Mickey had a good time—at least he thinks so, based on the sounds Mickey was making, and _shit,_ even thinking about it makes Ian feel uncomfortably tight in his boxers—but it’s pretty clear Mickey’s not at the point where he’s okay with just talking about that kind of stuff.

He _has_ finally showed up at school at least. The teachers regard him with tightly pursed lips, just a little bit more disappointment showing on their faces than usual when they glance at the shoddily-dressed South Side genius.

Ian hasn’t tried to approach him, and he doesn’t plan on it—at least, not until he figures out what exactly he’s going to say. He thinks that maybe he wants to talk to Katie about it, get her opinion or advice or whatever.

When she joins him at an otherwise empty table at lunch, however, she’s already seemingly halfway through a conversation.

“…I mean, can you be _lieve_ the fucking nerve? Like sure, nobody _knows_ he just got out of a relationship, but I mean seriously, what’s it been, less than two weeks? Ugh, what a _sleaze,_ am I right?”

Ian stares at her with wide eyes, genuinely impressed at the speed with which she’s able to talk.

“What the hell are you talking about, Katie? And talk slow, for god’s sake.”

Katie rolls her eyes, “Danny, you fucking dunce. He’s already seeing someone new, _publicly._ ”

Ian feels a sharp, painful twist in the lower regions of his stomach.

He wants to tell himself that he’s not jealous, that he’s way over Danny, that Danny’s a piece of shit who didn’t deserve him, but he can’t help but feel a nudge of anger.

Sure, he and Danny were only together for a little over four months, and sure, it’s not like Ian waited a long time before fucking someone new, but this was different.

He was _dating_ someone. Publically. As in, walking down the hallway hand in fucking hand. As in, all the things Ian would’ve killed for when they were together. All the things that Danny would never give Ian, just because Ian lived in fuckin’ Chiraq.

“You okay?” Katie asks, worriedly looking at Ian’s clenched fists. Ian notices how white his knuckles look upon the table and forces himself to unclench.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Just sucks, you know?”

Katie nods, sympathetically.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ian smiles kindly at her. “He’s still a piece of shit.”

Katie grins back. “Right you are! Maybe it’s time you find yourself a new piece of ass too!”

Ian snorts at her choice of words, but decides it’s as good a time as any to tell her about Mickey.

“Well, uh, speaking of…” He begins, not looking her directly in the eye.

“Oh my god!” Katie squeals, whacking him on the arm—rather hard. “You little slut, you’ve already fucked someone, haven’t you?”

“Shh!” Ian desperately hushes her, as her outburst has attracted several glances from neighboring tables.

“You totally did!” Katie says, smugly, thankfully lowering her volume somewhat.

“Okay, okay, maybe I did.” Ian says in hushed tones. “Would you stop being so satisfied about it?”

“Why?” Katie asks, crossing her arms inquisitively. “Was it _un_ satisfying?”

Ian immediately flashes back to the feeling of his fingers pressed into Mickey’s sweat-soaked skin, his tight, wet heat engulfing him.

He quickly returns to the present, feeling a deep blush crawling up his neck.

“Uh, no, definitely not unsatisfying.”

Katie looks absolutely delighted. “Oh my god, you have to tell me everything.”

“No, I do not.” Ian protests. “You may be my best friend, but you don’t need to know every detail of my sex life.”

“I tell you every detail of mine!” She protests.

“Yeah, I know, and I'm traumatized.” Ian shudders theatrically.

“At least tell me who it was!” Katie pouts.

Ian gives her a look, but relents, because he knows he needs her help anyway.

“Okay, fine. You probably won’t believe me anyway.”

“Tell!” Katie insists, perking right back up and grinning again.

“Mickey.” Ian says, under his breath.

Katie’s eyes seem to double in size. “Mickey _Milkovich?_ ”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Are we going to do this again? _Yes,_ how many other Mickey’s do we know?”

“Shut up!” she says in a dramatic stage whisper. “Fuck you, was it any good?”

Ian grins. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to tell Katie after all.

“Fucking phenomenal, dude, holy _shit!_ ” he lets out happily, glad he’s able to share it with someone.

Katie squeals again. “Oh my god, are you gonna do it again?”

“I mean, I want to, but I have no idea how to go about bringing that up with him. He nearly took my fucking teeth out when I just wanted to _talk_ about the kiss.”

“Well then, that’s easy. Just don’t make it a big conversation.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Katie gives him a condescending look, and Ian scowls, but says nothing and waits for her to say something useful.

“What it _means,_ Ian Gallagher, is that you have a habit of making mountains out of molehills. You’re a romantic with big expectations. Don’t try and push the poor guy into some sort of emotional discussion if all he wants to do is get his rocks off.”

  
Ian glares at her, trying to decide if he should be offended or not. Eventually he decides it’s not worth it and sighs in defeat.

“Fine, I won’t. So what, am I just supposed to walk up to him and announce that I want to keep having sex with him?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Ian groans. “You’re a psychopath. What would I even _say?_ ”

“Hmm, how about ‘hey Mickey, I really enjoyed having my dick inside you, what say we make it a regular occurrence?’”

Ian spends the rest of lunch throwing French fries at Katie.

 

* 

 

Ian doesn’t end up approaching Mickey after school that day, but after being thoroughly verbally abused by Katie through text for the rest of the night, he decides that tomorrow he will.

Despite Katie’s advice, though, he’s not sure it’s the best idea to just throw caution to the winds, so he catches Lip after dinner and pulls him aside.

“I need your help.” he says, reluctantly.

Lip smirks and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering one to Ian before lighting one for himself.

“What’s new?”

Ian rolls his eyes and scowls at him, but he’s used to Lip’s arrogant nature by now and ignores it for the sake of his cause.

“There’s this guy.” Ian starts, and now it’s Lip’s turn to roll his eyes.

“When is there not a fucking guy?” 

“Are you going to help me or not?” Ian demands.

Lip takes a long drag from his cigarette and sighs. “Alright, hit me.”

“We hooked up and it was seriously fuckin’ good, but he’s so impossible to figure out and I don’t know what he wants and Katie says I should just tell him I wanna hook up again, but I feel like he’ll probably just knock me the fuck out if I do that.” Ian lets out in one speedy breath.

Lip raises his eyebrows.

“Is this someone at school?”

Ian narrows his eyes at him. He didn’t come to Lip to be asked questions, he just wants advice.

“Yes.” he says, begrudgingly.

“But not Danny?” Lip queries further. Ian grits his teeth, now remembering what Katie said at lunch about Danny already dating someone new.

“No.” he says firmly. “Danny can go fuck himself.”

“So you just wanna fuck this dude or what?”

Ian groans, “Yes, sure, let’s put it like that.”

“I’m with Katie, I don’t know why you can’t just say you wanna hook up again if you already did?”

“I’m just supposed to walk up to him and say that?” Ian demands, incredulously. Is this seriously how Lip and Katie conduct their business?

“Well, you gotta play it cool.” Lip says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Play _what_ cool?”

“Things people play cool; Jesus, Ian. I don’t know how you even get laid in the first place.”

  
“I got the good looks in the family.” Ian retorts.

Lip laughs, good-naturedly. “Then go seduce your man with all your redheaded charm. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

With that, Lip gives him a one-armed hug and announces he has to go back to college, leaving Ian supremely displeased.

 _Well, that was pointless,_ he thinks to himself. Katie and Lip seriously don’t get how different things are when it’s two guys instead of your average hetero pairing.

By the time Ian arrives at school the next morning, he has made no further progress in his plan of what to say to Mickey, but he’s distracted from worrying about it because the hall seems to be abuzz, everyone murmuring to each other, similar to how they had been after Ian and Mickey had gone to prom together.

“What’s everyone talking about?” Ian asks Katie as he reaches her locker.

She gives him an unsure look. “Umm…”

“Yes?” Ian says, expectantly.

Katie sighs. “They’re talking about Danny. Everybody knows about him and Joshua now and I guess it’s hot gossip or something.”

“Joshua Peabody?” Ian’s so surprised that he forgets to look revolted at the mention of his ex. “Like…the crazy religious, father is a pastor, sister wears a promise ring Joshua Peabody?”

“No, the other Joshua Peabody.” Katie deadpans. “Yes, of course, Ian.”

“He’s gay?”

“Are you slow or something?” Katie furrows her eyebrows at him and Ian shoves her lightly.

“Shut up, I just mean like, who would’ve thought?”

Katie shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. He wears a lot of white button-downs. Like a hundred percent cotton.”

“He looks like a Mormon.”

Katie chuckles, “Jealous?”

Ian immediately scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“Mmm, I forgot you had your sights set on a bigger fish.” Katie elbows Ian in the side as they walk down the hall and Ian’s gut squirms as they pass by where Mickey stands by his locker. Ian chances a glance at Mickey’s face and their eyes meet for a brief moment, before Ian breaks the contact.

“You’re such a pussy.” Katie grins, observing the exchange. Ian elbows her back.

“Shut up. I have the rest of the day to figure out what to say to him.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.”

 

*

 

It turns out Ian actually doesn’t have to wait until the end of the day to see Mickey.

He arrives at lunch late, and when he does, the cafeteria is buzzing even louder than the hallway this morning. A table smack in the middle seems to have attracted more people than the seats allow for and those not seated there are glancing over enviously at those who are. Ian looks at the head of the table and oh, he really shouldn’t be surprised.

There’s Danny, looking very satisfied with all the attention he’s getting, and next to him sits Joshua, ever the choir-boy with ridiculously neat brown hair and a loving expression on his face as he looks up at Danny.

“Sickening, isn’t it?” Katie says, cheerfully, as Ian sits down across from her.   
  
He snorts. “It’s Danny’s wet dream, someone looking at him like they’d lick the dirt off his shoes.”

“Hot.” Katie says, pulling a face and taking a sip from her cup of water before turning on Ian and changing the subject. “So, what’s your plan with Mickey?”

Ian groans, but just when he’s about to answer, the hum of the busy cafeteria seems to subside a bit. Ian looks up, but he doesn’t need to—he knows what that sound means.

Sure enough, Mickey Milkovich has walked into the room. Even those seated at Danny’s Golden Table pause to look up, which Ian is glad to see makes Danny look somewhat put off. Normally never one to care about the crowd around him, Mickey scans the cafeteria quickly and when he sees the congregation of people around Danny and Joshua, he snorts.

Ian turns his attention back to Katie, glad for the distraction because he gets away with changing the subject.

“Have you and Mason gone out anymore?”

“Kind of.” Katie makes a shrugging gesture. “He’s cute and all, but he’s _so_ shy, getting him to talk about anything is like pulling molars.”

Ian chuckles and starts to answer, when a tray slams down next to him.

“Gallagher.” Mickey says, levelly.

“Milkovich.” Ian responds, trying but failing to hide the confusion in his voice.

Katie shoots him a questioning look and he gives her a half-shrug.

Ian is uncomfortably aware that there are eyes on their table now. He struggles to avoid looking at Danny, who he know can’t be happy about this.

“Uh, Mickey, what are you—?” Ian begins, but Mickey cuts him off briefly.

“I’m eating lunch, Gallagher, what’s it look like?” Mickey raises his eyebrows. Ian holds his gaze and neither of them backs down until Katie loudly clears her throat.

Both Ian and Mickey look at her and she just points to the side of the table, where five or six girls are just standing, staring at them.

“Um…” Ian thinks this is bizarre. Why are people so fucking weird? How does Mickey put up with this shit?

“Later.” Mickey says, apparently to the onlookers, though he doesn’t look up from his food. “I’m just trying to have lunch with my friends, a’ight?”

The girls murmur amongst each other, seemingly very excited that they’ve been addressed by Mickey Milkovich himself. But then they disperse and the rest of the cafeteria follows suit.

The people at Danny’s table return their attention to the adoring couple, but Ian is a little bit pleased that not everyone is as interested anymore.

“Hey.” says another voice and Ian looks up to see Mandy Milkovich take the seat next to Katie, holding nothing but a bottle of water and an apple in her hand

Katie widens her eyes at Ian, looking like she expects him to explain why the Milkovich siblings suddenly decided to seat themselves at their table.

Almost as if reading her mind, Mandy smirks. “I figured you’d be the ones talking shit about Danny.”

That’s all it takes to engage Katie’s interest. “ _God,_ what an attention whore.”

Mandy gives a sharp laugh, which delights Katie, and the two take off in a conversation about Danny’s possible mommy issues.

“What the hell is happening?” Ian mumbles under his breath, more to himself than to anyone else, but Mickey still chuckles next to him.

Ian looks at him, pleased at that reaction.

“Thought you’d be avoiding me,” he chances, keeping his voice low just in case.

Mickey looks at him with an unreadable expression and Ian feels himself squirming under the gaze of those piercing blue eyes.

“It look like I’m avoiding you, Gallagher?” he says, simply.

It’s not much, but Ian will take it. The two of them join their female counterparts, who are in the middle of wondering whether Joshua is saving himself for marriage like his sister or if he’s already given it up to Danny.

“I mean, look at his _face_ , though.” Katie looks disgusted at Joshua’s simpering expression. “There’s no way he’d look like that if he hasn’t already been fucked.”

“Danny’s a bottom.” Ian comments without thinking and Katie’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god! You fucking never told me! You always refused to tell me, oh my god!” she squeals like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard.

“Shit.” Ian scolds himself, but it’s too late. Katie’s looking from him to Mickey with wide eyes and a delighted expression on her face.

“Wait, so are you _always_ a top or—”

“Shut up, Katie.” Ian says, loudly.

“No, I’m curious too.” Mandy says, with a wicked smile on her face.

“You’re the devil.” Ian says to her, which just makes her grin wider.

“That sounds like a yes to me.” Katie says in a sing-song voice. “Honestly, as much of a douchebag as Danny is, I gotta give him props for that.”

“What? Why?” Mandy asks.

“I’ve seen Ian’s dick, it’s fucking massive. Would take a real champ to take that up the ass.” Katie replies, calmly, and Mickey chokes on his food.

Ian thumps on his back, while glaring at Katie, who just looks even more pleased with herself.

She and Mandy resume their conversation and Mickey gulps down the rest of his water. As he starts to stand, Ian—without thinking—grabs his arm to stop him.

Mickey looks at him, his eyebrows raised.

“Um…” Ian mutters, cursing himself out in his head. He really should’ve tried come up with something to say.

Mickey smirks at him and leans down _very_ close to Ian’s ear to murmur, “Bleachers after school.”

Unable to say anything, Ian just nods, and Mickey walks away.

Ian’s eyes follow him out of the cafeteria and as he’s turning back to the girls, he catches Danny staring at him with what he could only describe as a fiery glint in his eye.


	11. If You Say So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian, surprisingly, found himself really getting along with Mandy Milkovich. She’s intense as fuck and definitely much scarier than her brother, but Ian thinks she’s really funny and good company. He likes hanging out with her almost as much as Mickey.  
> Not that he and Mickey “hang out”, really. Ian groans internally. He wishes Katie never said all that shit about him liking Mickey more than he lets on. He still doesn’t think it’s true, but it’s put all these ideas in his head, these images of him and Mickey, eating take-out on his bed or going to a movie and not watching it and fuck, he really doesn’t need this right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGH, I know it's been a hundred years since I last posted, I am so sorry, my life's been an ongoing roller coaster these past few months. Guess what, I moved to Europe! Ey! Anyway, this chapter's pretty short, but it's building up to something! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> As always, these characters don't belong to me, but Showtime doesn't know how to handle them so.

Ian’s not exactly sure when sleeping with Mickey Milkovich became a routine occurrence in his life, but he should’ve known it was too good to last, because it’s in early May when the consequences begin rolling in.

Danny and Joshua’s whirlwind romance has come to an end—clearly Danny’s doing, if Joshua’s miserable and pining expressions in the halls are anything to go on. Katie and Mason started dating, Katie declaring delightedly that the shy Honors Chemistry student is quite the opposite of shy in the bedroom.

And Ian and Mickey? Well, they’ve been fucking. A lot. Like, an obscene amount.

It hasn’t stopped being earth-shatteringly good, either, and Ian has found himself in an abnormally good mood these past few weeks. Considering how things tend to go after a period of good luck for the Gallagher’s, Ian should’ve really seen the fall coming.

“Mickey’s ignoring me,” he tells Katie at lunch on Monday, ripping open his lemonade carton rather more aggressively than necessary.

“What do you mean?” Katie asks, immediately intrigued.

“I _mean_ , he hasn’t texted me back all weekend, didn’t show up at the dugouts on Friday even though we had plans, and he’s been avoiding eye contact in the hallways all day.”

“Did something happen? Did you guys have a fight?”

“We don’t even talk enough _to_ fight. It’s just ‘hey, Gallagher’ and then we fuck and then it’s ‘later, Gallagher.’”

“Romantic.” Katie says, her eyebrows raised. This isn’t the first time she’s confronted him about the nature of Ian and Mickey’s relationship.

Ian rolls his eyes.

“How many times do we have to talk about this, Katie? We’re not together, it’s just sex.”

Katie looks unconvinced. “Sure, okay, just sex. If you say so.”

Ian scowls at her, knowing she’s got much more to say.

“Fine, out with it.”

“Hmm?” Katie hums, playing nonchalant.

“Just spit it out and get it over with, Katie.” Ian says, irritably.

“It seems like it’s a lot more than just fucking to you.” She replies at once. “You may not talk to him much, but you should hear yourself around me sometime. It’s always ‘Mickey this’ and ‘Mickey that’, I think you really like him, Ian.”

“That’s ridiculous,” scoffs Ian. “I think I’d know if I had a crush on Mickey Milkovich.”  
“I doubt it,” Katie insists, stubbornly. “You can be incredibly hard-headed about this shit. You didn’t even realize how badly Danny was treating you till Mickey shoved it in your face.”

While Katie does have a point there, Ian still doesn’t think he likes Mickey that way, but he doesn’t want to argue, so instead he just grumbles, “Doesn’t matter anyway, since he’s not speaking to me.”

“Doesn’t he live like two streets away from you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“ _So,_ you absolute walnut, just go knock on his door and confront him about it.”

Ian hesitates. “I don’t know. We don’t meet up at his house often, ‘cause of his dad and everything.”

“Well, if his dad’s there, just say you’re there to see Mandy. You’re friends with her too, remember?”

“Of course I _remember._ ” Ian glares.

That has been an additional bonus of messing around with Mickey: Ian, surprisingly, found himself really getting along with Mandy Milkovich. She’s intense as fuck and definitely much scarier than her brother, but Ian thinks she’s really funny and good company. He likes hanging out with her almost as much as Mickey. Not that he and Mickey "hang out", really.

Ian groans internally. He wishes Katie never said all that shit about him liking Mickey more than he lets on. He still doesn't think it's true, but it's put all these  _ideas_ in his head, these images of him and Mickey, eating take-out on his bed or going to a movie and  _not watching it_ and fuck, he really doesn't need this right now.

Eventually, Katie convinces him that if Mickey doesn’t get back to him for the rest of the day, he’ll go over to the Milkovich house tonight and ask him what’s going on.

Ian’s thoughts on how that’s gonna go keep him heavily preoccupied for the rest of the day, so much so that he doesn’t even realize that someone’s approached him at his locker after the end of the last class.

He looks up, and is surprised—and not at all pleased—to find Danny smiling down at him, his light brown hair perfectly brushed and his eyes twinkling, something Ian used to find attractive but which now just made him nauseous.

“What do you want, Danny?” He says, in a cold voice, dropping his Bio textbook in his locker and slamming the door shut.

“Just a minute of your time,” Danny replies, calmly, his smirk never leaving his face.

“You’ve got ten seconds.” Ian crosses his arms. “Talk fast.”

“I was merely hoping you’d accompany me to dinner Friday night. Maybe go see a movie.”

Ian’s too surprised to even maintain his stoic expression; his eyebrows hike up.

“I’m sorry, _what?_ Are you asking me out on a date right now?”

Danny just smiles wider. “And what if I am?”

“You’re fucking crazy if you are, that’s what.” Ian says, feeling his voice rise in anger. “You treat me like your dirty little secret for four months and now that…that, what? Your perfect church boy won’t get on his knees for you, you come back expecting me to jump back into your arms? You’re out of your fucking mind, Danny.”

To Ian’s shock—and displeasure—Danny doesn’t look mildly put off by his tirade. In fact, his smile doesn’t waver once.

“Sleep on it,” he says, instead, reaching over and squeezing Ian’s shoulder in what is clearly meant to be a warm gesture. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind.”

Ian gapes after him, barely able to believe what just happened. He considers finding Katie before she heads home and asking her if she has any idea what gave Danny the nerve to come back to Ian after everything.

But, he realizes grimly, it’s not really Katie he wants to talk to.

 _Screw it,_ he thinks to himself. He’s not going to wait till tonight. He wants to talk to Mickey _now._


End file.
